


Third Railed

by DaddyFuckinLongLegs, Fridays__Child



Series: Gene/Stahl [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Choking, Convenient post apocalypse lube, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, F/M, Hair Pulling, Liiittle bit of cbt, One Night Stand, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Snowballing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, alcohol use, they got feelings on their own accord, they were just meant to bang, two assholes flirting, we were just there to watch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25637155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddyFuckinLongLegs/pseuds/DaddyFuckinLongLegs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fridays__Child/pseuds/Fridays__Child
Summary: Just two sexy pre-war cats getting down to it. Again, and again, and again...
Relationships: OC/OC
Series: Gene/Stahl [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858456
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with, this is edited on my phone so there may well be some formatting errors!

The Rail is as busy as ever. A collection of the low down dirtiest punks of the Commonwealth, the scrappiest scavengers and drifters, and the free-est freeloaders this side of Vegas. Stahl is pitched at a table in the corner, most of Marowski's other guys clearing out around him, but he isn't quite ready to hit the hay. Charlie is taking his sweet time doing an inventory behind the bar, and the other girl - what was her name? Gina? - is taking care of the customer base. He watches her deftly swiping empties and filling glasses and strong-arming one guy away from the jukebox after one too many rounds of the Belmonts doing "I Wonder Why." Stahl is impressed. 

He finishes the last mouthful of beer and makes for the bar himself, taking his time, weaving into a thinner spot in the row of hungry hands and rattling caps. When the barmaid gets to him, the crowd has thinned substantially, but his seat is long gone. He sighs, clears his throat, leaning on the bar top and flicking the hair out of his face with his hand. 

"Can I take another Gwinnett? And a rum and nuka." He flashes a smile at her. "And something for yourself, looks like you had a long night."

“Aren’t they all?” The barmaid huffs a laugh, a hint of a smirk ghosting her lips. Not taking her eyes off the glass she’s cleaning, she bends down behind the counter, reappearing with the booze and pouring herself a rum and nuka. She pushes the change back to him.

“Honey, keep your caps. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, when you’re behind the bar, you can drink for free. Just don’t tell Charlie.”

Her eyes flick over him, and her chipped burgundy nails tap pleasantly against it as she raises the cracked glass. She clinks their glasses together, inclining slightly, then downs the nearly black liquid. She regards him for a moment, then goes on.

“Though, if you’re after some company, I am nearly due to go on break. A lady so rarely gets offered a drink these days.” 

Her thumb gently wipes a spill of rum and nuka from her lips, slightly smudging her faded lipstick. 

“Especially,” she adds, eyeing him over appreciatively, “from someone like you.” 

She draws out a dinged and rusty cigarette case from her back pocket, wordlessly offering it to the man.  
“You got a name?”

His eyes follow her thumb as it trails across her lip, and his nostrils twitch as he holds his mouth still, his own tongue touching his top lip. He draws a short breath through his teeth. 

"A guy like me?" his eyebrows raise, arching pleasingly above his dark eyelids. "What exactly does that mean?"  
He smiles, and takes a cigarette, then tugs a lighter from his pocket, flicking the flame and holding it out to her. 

"Woulda thought you had my number by now, I got a bit of a reputation that usually finds its way ahead of me. Name's Stahl. And you're... Gee-something. Right?"

She barks a laugh at him, an unexpectedly dirty and ugly sound from such a pretty mouth, revelling in the way his eyes traced down her throat. 

“And here I was thinking you were the last remaining pillar of chivalry.” 

She accepts the cigarette from his hand, taking a long draw before handing it back. For a few moments, she stares at him appraisingly, intensely, like he’s a puzzle and she’s desperate to figure him out. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” A long plume of smoke flows from her lips, settling around Stahl’s face.  
“Honey, surely you can imagine how many people I encounter each day in a place like this. I’d have an aneurysm trying to remember them all.” 

She downs her drink, refilling the chipped glass with straight whiskey and offering the bottle to Stahl.  
“It’s Gene. Like your creepy uncle. Not,” her eyes wander to his waistband, lower, “like those pants.”

She considers him, for a moment. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. What sort of reputation are we talking about? Seeing as you’re so,” she stage whispers, eyes widening mischievously, “incredibly well known?”  
He shifts his weight, leaning just a little closer to her, but refuses the whisky, takes a long swig of his beer instead.

"Well, Gene, could be one of about ten things, all being told. Runnin' for Marowski. Drinking too much. Gettin' my ass kicked by the mayor once or twice - we're on good terms now, y'understand. Picking up pretty boys - and girls - in places like this."

He smirks, knowingly, and takes a drag of the cigarette.  
"I like to party. Do you?"

If she was trying to look bored, flicking the polish from her long fingers, eyes focused on the mess, the raise in her brow betrayed her. 

“So you’ve got a way with people, it seems. A real wasteland bad boy.” 

Leaning forward, she mimics her actions earlier, wiping a bead of beer from his lips. Winking at his widening eyes, she licks the beer from her finger. 

“I’m still surprised I haven’t heard of your exploits, because I definitely,” her voice lowers, inviting Stahl to lean in closer, “understand the appeal.”

A slosh of liquid and broken glass, and they both jump. One of the more inebriated patrons - that fucker from the jukebox earlier - had spilt a table's worth of booze over his pants and frantically started waving Gene down.

“Hey you! Gonna come be a good girl and come clean this up?”

Gene rolls her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “Really? Is this the only way you can get a woman on her knees? I can guarantee no one else would willingly get down there.”

Leaning back to Stahl, she pulls the nearly all ash cigarette from his hand, taking a final draw before dumping it in the ashtray beside them. 

“You think maybe he did that to hide the fact he pissed himself when I rounded on him earlier?” 

Not waiting for an answer, she ducked back down behind the counter, grabbing her apron and throwing it over her head. 

“Listen, hot shot, I’m only gonna be here for another hour. If you wanna go make yourself comfortable.”  
She gestures to the empty spaces around the bar.  
“I’m sure you could convince me to... how did you say it? Party? I’m dying to know more about this supposed reputation of yours.”

Stahl smiles, a little smirk that curls the corner of his mouth and wrinkles his nose.

"That is the best thing I've heard all evening. Grab me another beer before you go deal with him, I'll wait around."

He straightens up, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his shirt, tucking it back into the back of his jeans, then drops the caps into her hand for the beer, letting his fingers brush her palm deliberately. 

"Don't forget about me now, Gene. I'll be..." he scans the room for a second, "...right over there." He gestures with the bottle at an empty table by the wall. "Come find me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Stahl finishes the second beer, and lifts his eyes from the three empties on the table in front of him - just in time to glimpse her rounding the bar, two more drinks in her hands. He rocks the chair back on two legs, stretching his own legs out and admiring her silhouette in the bar light; the way she nudges a chair out of her way with her hip, the grace in the way she carries herself... He lets the chair fall again, and sits up straight, pulling his cigarettes out and dropping them on the table in front of him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Are these for me?” 

She steals a cigarette, lighting up, slumping in the adjacent chair as all the tension leaves her body in a plume of cigarette smoke. Gene offers him a smoke, not too close to him, enjoying the way he leans his long body into her to catch it in his lips. Groaning slightly, she stretches her arms above her head, cracking her neck before rubbing her eyes.

“You think after doing this for literal eons, I’d learn how to deal with these assholes better. Guess how many of these fuckers tried to fiddle me when I brought them over their drinks?”

Resting her face on her hands, she eyes the way his throat bobs as he takes a swig of beer. 

“Thanks for waiting, Stahl. I won’t lie, I’m surprised you’re still here. Given your  _ supposed _ notoriety, I figured you’d head out with one of the many other eligible decrepits eyeing you off.”   
He tuts at her, chewing his tongue and shaking his head quietly. 

She grins like a cheshire cat, swallows a shot of liquor, chasing the sweetness of the nuka with her tongue across her lips.   
“Even Mags seemed desperate to get her claws in ya, and that’s the highest compliment The Third Rail can give.”

He laughs, basking in his own glory for just a second, then shakes his head modestly. 

"I don't think that's the way of it. Not with Mags, anyway. Once upon a time we... Ran into each other at a party, but I think now I'm more of a useful excuse, for the other guys watching, make 'em think she's taken up for the night." 

He sips his drink. 

"Maybe you could try it. Put it on, little bit of showmanship..." 

He laughs and takes a drag of his smoke, watching her calmly, not shy of the eye contact.

Gene’s small bronze eyes narrow, taking a long, measured look at Stahl as she finishes his cigarette. Stamping it out with a touch more aggression than strictly necessary, she stares him down. One second passes, two, before she barks a filthy laugh, letting an ugly smile twist her lips.

“A little bit of showmanship? Is that what you’re doing with Mags?” 

Dropping her voice to a low whisper, she leans across the small table to the near-empty packet of smokes. 

“I bet you’d look real cute, defending her honour and all.”

Her gaze holds him for a beat more, trying and failing to make him squirm. He matches her, challenges her, still with a self satisfied smile on his face. Gene shrugs.

“Honey, thanks for the tip, but I had enough of that in a previous life. No one needs to see me in a cocktail dress anymore.” 

Leaning back in her chair, she gestures down her body, enjoying the way his eyes trace her from shoulders to waist.

“Besides, I seem to still do okay on my own. Got your attention, didn’t I?”

"You certainly did," he laughs, "though that's not... quite what I meant. I meant," 

He slides closer, leaning his elbow beside her on the table, close enough that his shoulder brushes hers. 

"I  _ meant _ that it might not hurt to give the impression that you're already going home with somebody. I don't think you didn't notice this but-" he brushes his knuckles against the side of her cheek, and gestures discreetly at the room, "once you're sat close enough to play footsie..." 

They both glance around the bar, the other patrons suddenly uninterested. 

"But you're right.” he nods, “You can certainly take care of yourself. And I'll be honest, I'm not much in a fistfight, even though I've had more'n my fair share."   
  


He shifts his weight back a little, not leaving her side entirely but giving her a little more space. She leans back into his warmth, resting an elbow on his thigh. She eyes off the other patrons, enjoying their pointed hyper-focus on their drinks or their laps, courtesy of the six foot-something man and his entertaining little power move. 

For a moment, she imagines him bruised and bloody, knuckles split from showing some jackass what happens when she’s touched without permission. Tongue between her teeth, she tuts at him, fingers tracing the trail of red she imagines leaking from his nose and mouth, resting her fingers on his jaw. Her gut twists pleasingly. 

“Well, if it comes to that, I’ll be sure to clean you up real nice afterwards.”   
She sighs.   
“You know, this place is getting a little stale. I’ve got to be back in about twelve hours so I’d rather not waste any more of my life here.” 

She rests her lips against her fingertips, a coy smile hiding there. 

“You mentioned something about liking to party? What did you have in mind?”

"Well," He pulls a small tin from his pocket, gives it a shake. "Couple of different options, depending on what you feel like. You want a little bump, or you just wanna get straight out of here?” She smiles wryly, raising an eyebrow at the ratling tin. 

“Well, if you’re indulging, it’d be rude not to join.” 

Downing the last of her drink, she presses her leg against his. Absent, anxious fingers fuss with the lapels of his shirt, and his skin prickles where her fingers touch.   
“You got a place you wanna go, or..." he shrugs, "you want to come back to mine?"   
  


He shakes two little tablets out of the tin, drops them in his mouth, then does the same again, leaning close and touching them to Gene's bottom lip. She opens her mouth, and he pushes them onto the tip of her tongue. Gene closes her eyes, letting the tip of her tongue flick against his thin fingers, her own squeezing the muscle of his shoulder. She holds him there, a second or so longer than necessary, and glides her lower lip along the intrusion, delighting in the faint hitch to his breathing it causes.    
Straightening out her shirt, she pats down her pockets, taking inventory in her head.

“You gonna take me home?

He nods. “If that’s what you’d like.”   
“If it’s all the same with you, yours sounds great.” she nods, chewing the tablets. “I share a wall with Magnolia.”

_...share a wall with... _

His face drops for a moment. He clears his throat, lifts her hand away gently, resting it on his shoulder instead. 

"Not for too long I hope, or this might all start to... sound awfully familiar." 

Stahl laughs, and it's almost nervous, even a little sheepish. Gene eats up his expression, that slight tinge of worry troubling his features when she mentions sharing a wall.  _ Adorable _ . 

“Oh, I’ve heard things through that wall, honey.” She laughs, touching the hint of red that hits high on his cheekbones. 

“You just have to prove if you were one of the ones worth,” she presses her thigh against his, “ _ listening _ to.”

He laughs, and nods into her hand, the mentats balanced on the edge of his tongue..   
"Sure, we can go back to mine. Guy I share with is out of town for a little while. And I don't share a wall with  _ anybody _ ."

He crushes the tablets against the roof of his mouth, and the pills hit fast, bright and clear and sharp as sunshine - and he leans forward, catches her mouth in a bright little kiss, his tongue brushing gently at the back of her teeth before he pulls away.

For a second, she’s stunned by his boldness, raising her hand, but she’s spared from responding by the brevity of the kiss; he retreats as fast as he moved in, and lifts his long limbs from his seat. He stands up, the room in closer focus and humming with detail, and she stands with him, his tall frame shielding her from the prying eyes of the other patrons - and Charlie - and she’s grateful for that. 

  
She lets him lead her up and out of the old station, keeping a step behind him to take him in; sure, she had stolen glances at him before, watched him leave with a number of her regulars. He’s  _ much _ taller than her, and she nearly groans watching the sinewy muscles of his arms stretch over thin bone as he holds the door at the top of the stairs. Ham chuckles at her with a shake of his head, catching her brief moment of indulgence. She rolls her eyes at him, feigning ignorance as she blows him a goodbye kiss. 

The heel of her ill fitting shoe catches on the top step, she stumbles slightly; pills always did make her clumsy. She breaks her fall by reaching for the small of his back, enjoying the way his muscles contract from the sudden impact. Stahl reaches out to steady her, and she responds by lightly dragging her nails down the offered arm, grinning up at him.

“Ooops. We got far to walk? My feet are killing me.”

He steadies her, careful and conscious of where his hands land, and the quick rake of her nails down his arm, as she loops her arm with his, makes the hairs on his whole body stand upright. 

"Not far, only ten minutes or so."

He falls a little quiet on the walk, still swaggering as tall as ever, but more thoughtful than preening. They approach the building, and he leans her against the wall, letting his hand trail down her waist and over her hip, leaning into her neck and stealing another small kiss, before reaching up at the base of the fire escape, lean stomach stretched taut, and dragging down a short ladder. 

Gene looks at him. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, I can't do anythin' about the stairs. I'll make it up to you when we get inside, lay you down and rub your feet, how's that sound?" 

He snickers, and gestures for her to climb the ladder.

Removing her hands from where they had crept under his shirt, Gene sighs dramatically in feigned frustration. She climbs up the first few rungs until her eyes are level with his, reaching for his face. She lifts his chin in her hand, squeezing slightly until his lips purse. 

“You better make it worth my while then.”

Gene pats his cheek, not too gently, scuttling upwards. He watches her ass as she climbs the ladder, hands languishing in his pockets instead of reaching out to touch her.   
“Lucky I’m not wearing a skirt. Surely you’re just doing this to sneak a peek.” 

The accusation is paired with another dirty laugh as Stahl climbs behind her, shaking his head and smiling.   
“I would  _ never _ . What kinda guy do you take me for?”


	3. Chapter 3

The apartment is clean, at least. And yet… the place tugs something familiar in her memory. She takes a minute to run her eyes around the room. The little pills Stahl fed her sharpen her recollection; Stahl’s hands come behind her, circling her waist, and Gene spins in his grasp. One hand comes to rest on his chest. He's sure she can feel his heartbeat, thudding away behind his ribs, and he looks at her chest, the low, loose neckline of her shirt gaping a little on one side, as she tilts her head, and he imagines-

“You live with Mac, right?”

The question derails his train of thought. 

"Yeah.” He nods. “We... work together sometimes, made a lot of sense to take up here instead of living at the Rex. You know him well?”

She nods, her hand curling against his shoulder. Stahl smiles.

“He's a lot of fun. Thinks he's the toughest mother around, and that temper, Jesus... but a lot of fun. 'Specially if you know how to push his buttons. And believe me, I know how to push his buttons." 

Stahl laughs and squeezes her hips, sliding his hands up toward her chest - and she shoves away, 

slapping his grabbing hands away with a grin. She bends slightly to undo one shoe, then two. 

“Now Mr Stahl, I remember you said something about rubbing my feet?” 

She backs away from him, giggling, slightly manic with adrenaline, and flings her shoes at him one after the other, laughing at the slight ooof Stahl makes as they make contact with his chest. He throws her shoes to the floor beside the couch, and grins, shaking his head. 

"You weren't supposed to take me up on that. But if you want." he shrugs. "I know you've been standing up for eight hours though, so if... If this is your thing I'm gonna need you to get a little cleaned up. No offense," he laughs, "I just like to do a thorough job and... Y'know." 

Gene throws her head back in a laugh. 

“No need to look so stricken honey, I’m not going to make you suck my toes anytime soon.” 

He sits down on the sofa, unlacing his own boots quickly, a flash of relief on his face.

"How do you know Bo- sorry, RJ, anyway?"

She curls up on the couch next to him, long legs stretched out catlike in his lap as she basks in the warmth radiating from his overheated skin. Her fingers tuck a stray dark tendril of hair back behind his ear. A knowing smile curls up her lips, idle fingers now following the curve of his ear to his jaw. 

“I know Bobby pretty well.Though certainly not in the way you seem to. He’s helped me out in a tight spot or two, but I could never view him as anything other than a younger brother sort. It’s a shame, really,” she remarks, as calmly as if he had asked what she thought of the weather. “You two together, it’d be a real treat for some other person’s eyes.”

Gene shuffles backwards, back hitting the opposite arm of the couch as she begins emptying her pockets. Keys, lipstick, and a dented old cigarette tin join her shoes on the floor. 

“You’re right about before though, I could freshen up if you prefer, honey. I’m hardly gross, but I don’t want to cause any discomfort if it bothers you. Wouldn’t want to prevent you from being thorough.” She licks her lips at the last word.

His hand rests on her thigh as she speaks, gliding high up, rolling over her hip, back down underneath her, clasping her knee, and lifting her leg, tucking her foot behind him. 

"No, no, don't worry about that. It was a... context specific thing." 

He grins. 

"I done some wild shit but feet... Just aren't really my thing. You're good--better than good - just how you are." 

He leans forward, arching over her, one hand on her hips, the other gripping the couch tightly, his shirt untucking from his jeans. Goddamn, the way she moves her mouth, and that laugh... 

She shuffles, pulling away a little, sitting more upright as she drops the last of her possessions onto the floor, and Stahl takes a long look at her. He draws a slow breath, and dips his face to kiss her again; she rolls away, and he drags his open mouth across her jaw instead, down her throat, pulse thrumming against his soft lips. He's getting hard, and he lingers there, letting the feeling creep through his stomach. 

Fuck, she feels good, smooth, and clean, and... 

He lets his body rest lower against hers, the front of his pants stretching noticeably as he presses against her thigh. 

"Just how thorough d'you want me to be, honey?" 

He nudges his dick against her, deliberately, letting her feel the shape of him through his pants as his mouth trails over her skin. 

"You want me to take my time... Or you prefer to... point me in the right direction?" 

Shit, he feels … nice. Better than nice. All heat, and smoke, and beer-tinged tongue tracing her pulse. He makes her feel small in the most wonderful way, and she thanks him by dragging her teeth against his throat in turn. 

She rolls her hips against his, nearly nervous with anticipation, how it might feel to have him pressing into her... Her hand flexes in response to the stubble prickling her jaw, and she uses it to press him closer still. Softly gripping his neck in one hand, she pushes his head back to look at her, the other ghosting the trail of hair leading to his jeans.

“Three things. One, no kissing, on the mouth at least.” 

Her fingers run over the metal of his belt.

“Two, my bra stays on. Though I will be very offended if you don’t take your shirt off.” 

One finger slips through the leather, loosening it from it’s metal confinement.

“Three, I’m not sure what passes for contraception these days, but if you’re not clean, it’s not happening.” 

She rubs her nose against the upturned tip of his, so unexpectedly cute juxtaposed against his otherwise tough persona. She lets out a laugh-tinged breathe, lets it taint his soft lips. They open slightly as she pulls his belt loose.

“Other than that, I’m all yours.” 

She cocks a thick, curved brow. 

“Anything weird I need to know about?”

"All you gotta know about me is I'm a dirty old man, and I like surprises."

He smiles, then sighs; it hisses softly through his teeth, and he looks at her mouth, longingly. 

"Sorry about that... earlier. You've got a real pretty mouth, and I never thought to ask first." 

He runs his hand up her stomach, her breath hot on his face, their noses touching, he closes his eyes for a moment... 

She shakes her head slightly, pressing her lips chastely to the edge of his mouth. The tip of her tongue tracing the curve where his soft lips meet the spiked stubble.

“No harm, no foul. It’s not, uh, a normal aversion. Intimacy issues, you know?” 

She runs her thumbs along the seam of his mouth, letting him catch it for a moment.

“You’ve got a real pretty mouth as well, it should be kissed.”

His body is lithe between her legs, his hips grinding against her as she loosens the button of his pants, and he grabs her hips, sitting up and pulling her weight against him, bodies connecting with a sharp thrust. His hands leave her for a moment, working the buttons of his shirt undone, slipping it off, and he shucks off his undershirt as well, pulling it over his head, thin muscles working visibly under his skin, and it tousles his hair as he pulls himself free. 

"I'm clean, don't worry. But... Can we make a little compromise on that other one?" 

He raises his eyebrows, almost pleading. 

"Lose the bra, keep the shirt? Your shirt, that is. It's up to you of course, but... hell, I just like to see the way they move, y'know?" 

He laughs, sheepish again for a second, no pressure, no demand.

"I just like to -" he kisses her throat again, "-eat up every scrap of - softness I can get in this world. And forbidden fruit - as they say - always tastes sweetest. Even if you don't get the whole apple."

Stahl’s sudden movements thrill her, and she returns his thrust with a grind of her own. She’s reluctant to deprive herself of his hands, needy and commanding over her body, but she pushes him away, turns her back to him. She quickly undoes the buttons on her blouse, letting it drop to her waist, and his eyes skim her shoulders hungrily. For a few moments, she leans her back against his chest, writhing a little as his skin moves against her, then reaches behind her, running a hand through his hair, nipping and sucking at his neck despite the slightly awkward angle. Gripping his wrist, she drags it up her good side to the stretched lace bra.

“You mind undoing me, handsome?” 

Stahl's breath sighs against her ear, and his hand curls eagerly around the cup of her bra, his fingers trailing along the edge, the longest digit sneaking below the lace, tracing lightly over her skin. The tip of his finger brushes lightly against her nipple, then he pulls away reluctantly.

"Can I touch them?" He asks, sincere, his other hand reaching up to the clasp of her bra, his thumb hooking underneath. 

"If you don't- Just say no, I won't... push if you don't want me to." 

His teeth catch her earlobe, and his other hand trails her waist, joining the one busily fidgeting with her bra.

Gene shudders, involuntarily. Half from his touch, calculated and deliberate. Half from the genuine concern in his voice, the way it ghosts through her, makes the hairs on the back on her neck prick. For a second, she feels precious, and seen, the usual cold liquid drip of anxiety pooling in her stomach. She swallows it down, angling her neck to meet his eyes.

“Because you asked so nicely,” she mumbles, her voice low. “Just, stay to the right side, if that’s okay? I got hurt on the left, it can make things …. Sensitive.” 

She can feel him throb behind her, and grinds back in response, hearing the friction as their jeans run against each other. She reaches to his fly, clumsy and distracted, pulling it down before running her hand down the cotton covered length of him.

“Since you’ve been so - hnng - considerate, I want to thank you.” Her thighs press together, shifting, desperate for contact, anything. 

“Want to make you feel good-” her breath hitches as long fingers trace her nipple. “Make those pretty blue eyes roll back.”

She rolls the words slowly down her tongue, and he unclips her bra, pulls her to him, gliding his hands up her stomach, his left hand tracing the wire and elastic, and following the strap up her shoulder, smoothing it down over her skin, until it falls to her elbow. His other hand pushes up beneath the lace, her breast warm and soft and heavy in his hand. He pinches her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it carefully, and whispering to her again. 

"Don't you worry honey, you're making me feel just swell," he laughs, "Real, real good. You just keep that up, run your hand- a little tighter ther- ah! Yeah, like that. Just like that." 

He pulls off her bra, lifting her hand away from him for a moment, letting it fall into her lap, and waits, patiently, for her to slip her shirt back onto her shoulders.

Fuck, she could get used to a guy like this. Attentive and sweet, with the promise of being anything but if the right buttons were pushed. Gene sucks a bruising kiss to his neck, then leans forward, pushing the sleeves of her shirt, then tattered lace, off her arms. Protecting what little scraps of her modesty was left with one arm, she holds out her bra, other arm extended, winking at Stahl as she drops it deliberately to the floor. Once, a showgirl, always a showgirl. Old habits die hard.

Arms back in the faded white shirt, she pulls the left sleeve back over her shoulder, but leaves the fabric bunched and struggling to hide the right. She pushes off from her knees, letting the curves of her ass brush against the concave of Stahl’s chest.

Gene turns to face him, mimicking his greedy, starving gaze. Slotting a leg between his, she gently pushes her knee against his crotch, enjoying the sharp inhale it draws. Stahl feels warm and heavy and so fucking promising against her kneecap. 

She leans forward, reaching for him, angling so his eyes are drawn to her collarbones and the softness below. A little trick she learnt from before the bombs, when she was unblemished and beautiful, and could encourage those patrons with deep pockets to think with their dicks. She taps a thumb against his lips, commanding them to open, pushing it in for him to suck and nip at. The other hand paints a map of his chest, highlighted in her lipstick. 

She rolls, and then sucks on his nipple, letting her nails scrape gently over his belly, coaxing goosebumps to the surface, and a little flinch, and whimper, as his muscles spasm. Stahl arches beneath her, laughing, and she chuckles darkly. She grips tight at his hip bones. Bringing her face back to his, she nudges her nose against his. An eye for an eye, a cloth for a cloth. She flicks the elastic of his underwear. 

“Off.”

"You a dancer or somethin'?" he murmurs, "I seen that sort of move before. In a titty bar." 

He laughs, running his tongue across his teeth staring straight into her eyes.

"Wicked. Sinful. I love it." 

He nudges her backward, just a touch, and slides off the couch, stands beside it, his pants unfastened and hanging loosely around his hips. He watches her a moment, then smiles. 

"I dunno if I can make this look as good as you can."

His fingers start to slide his belt from his jeans, winding it slowly around his fist, then he lets it fall in a long coil onto the couch beside her. He runs his hands down his hips, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, and gliding them down slowly over his thighs. 

They fall, to his knees, and he stands there in front of her, for a moment, then bends and slides his jeans off the rest of the way, stepping out of them coolly, deliberately, one foot in front of the other, closer to her, until he could reach out and stroke her face - but he stops. He rubs his hand over the front of his briefs with a little shuddering sigh. He's hard now, really hard, the cotton stretched tight over him.

"Whaddyou think?" He smiles, "Good enough for Vegas? Or you want me to turn around and touch my toes?"

“Mhmm,” she laughs through her nose, smirking at his little performance. 

She runs a calculating eye over him, cooly, unattached. Appraising the way his pale skin pulls taught over the lean muscle of his arms and chest. Her hands reach forward to flick at a nipple as she moves slightly around him, keeping her eyes low, admiring from every angle.

“Not bad.” 

She grins up at him from under dark lashes, resting both hands coyly over his chest. Her tongue runs over the gap in her front teeth. 

“Your little performance could’ve given me a run for my money back in the day.”

She runs her hands over his chest if she’s ironing a wrinkle on a shirt, before sliding a hand through the mussed dark hair at the back of his neck. She guides him down, neck strained from bridging the eleven inch gap it takes to bring them eye level.

“Why am I not surprised you’ve seen a titty bar or two.”

She near-whispers in his ear, lips wetting the curve of it. She traces the head of his dick with her fingertips before cupping him through the straining fabric. 

“Filthy guy like you? Bet you sat wanking in the back, desperate for a hint of tits, or a flash of cunt?”

She begins stroking him, tight by his earlier request. Stahl’s chest vibrates in a low, broken laugh. She continues -

“A guy like you probably got thrown out for getting handsy with the girls. The ones I knew wouldn’t resist a face like that, especially if it comes packaged with this.” 

She squeezes him, roughly, at odds with the softness of her voice. She slips one hand down the white cotton of his underwear, groaning as she feels the hot velvet of his skin. Oh, yes. She repeats her pumping action, and kisses softly at his earlobe and neck.

“I bet that was your favourite part. Getting roughed up, filthy and covered in yourself. Thrown out on the street, where everyone can see how depraved you are.” 

Gene combs her fingers through the wiry pubic hair framing his dick, before pulling the straining elastic taught.

“Now, I thought I said,” She whispers throatily, “off.”

"You wound me, madam." He imitates her accent with a dirty smile. "I ain't never touched a girl who didn't want me to. And all my - jerking off I did at home." 

His voice falters for a second, and he tips his head back, her hand sweeping the length of his dick.

She snaps the elastic, and gives him the order, and he sighs, his cock desperate for the attention again. 

"Though," he breathes, straightening up, "getting my ass handed to me for my, uh, sexual preferences ain't nothin' new. And honey, you got no idea how depraved I am." 

He drops his underpants unceremoniously to the floor and wraps his palm around his dick, standing in front of her and moving his hand in long, slow strokes. His dick is flushed bright at the tip, and he drops to his knees in front of her. 

"You like that picture though, huh?" 

His other hand trails up the inside of her thigh, up over her hip, catching in the top of her pants. 

"You like the idea of me spent and dirty in an alley somewhere?"

His other hand joins the first, smoothing around to tuck underneath her, and she raises her hips in response. 

"You're just walking past, of course. Leaving work, your pussy all hot and wet from showin' your body to a room full of-" he yanks her pants down, hard, and she lets out a little cry; shock, pleasure, excitement, "hungry, horny guys like me."

He lifts her, one leg at a time, rolling the cloth down slowly over her smooth skin and the thin, downy hairs on her legs, until he's slipped them from her ankles. She coils, reflexively, pulling her knees closer to her, perching on the sofa in a pose he could have lifted from skin mag, her ass tipped towards him slightly, legs bent at the knee in a beautiful, tight fold, her toes pointed. 

He pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, admiring her shamelessly. 

"You like it too, don't you?" he speaks slowly, "People watching you. You like guys admiring your body... Does it turn you on? If there was a guy whacking off in the back booth, watching you shake your ass like that, thinkin' how much he'd pay to get inside you." 

He kneels upright, rests his hands on her knees - she knows what's coming, but he waits, teases with the thought, rubbing small circles on her skin with his thumb.

"I bet you were the kinda girl who gave them a little flash of your cunt. Made it look like an accident, but you wanted to strip right down and touch yourself in front of that whole room. Didn't you?" 

It isn't a question. 

"Does it give you a little thrill, to think about it - guy like me, thrown out for touching himself and tryin' to get a hold of you, while you get to stay on that little stage and show off-" 

He pulls her legs apart, hard, pushing her knees wide, 

"-that pretty pink pussy, just for a second or two?"

He watches her, waits for her answer, then rubs the back of his hand softly, so incredibly softly, over the front of her panties. 

"Why don't you show me now?"

“Jesus, that’s hot.” she mumbles.

Heart beating rapidly from his rough removal of her pants, and she recovers with a sharp exhale through o-shaped lips. She pouts at his story, and stretches a leg out, running a foot up his side, loving how it made it easier for her to move against his knuckles.

“Poor baby, getting all beat up for something he likes. Darling boy. I won’t tell anyone about your wicked little desires.” 

She tries to sound condescending, but it’s spoiled by a gasp as a knuckle brushes against her satin-covered clit. Gene pushes up on her elbows, pulling a knowing face like she’s about to share a huge secret. 

“Though I’ve got to burst your bubble a little. I mainly worked the bar, not quite coordinated enough.” 

She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head at him. 

“Got a few tips though.”

She hooks her chipped nails under her underwear, pulling them with even more deliberate slowness than his previous strip tease, bringing her knees to her chest and lifting her hips. Leaving them hooked around her knees, she slides a hand between her legs, shielding it from view with two daintily crossed feet.

“God, watching you touch yourself,” she gasps, arching her back a little. “Saying shit like that. You’ve spoiled me.” 

She moves his hand to the top of her thigh, so close to the aching wetness between them. 

“A guy like you could thrill me into doing all kinds of things.” 

She bites her lip, arching a brow at him. 

“Any requests?”

He takes a slow, deep breath, and his voice is low, suddenly, commanding. 

"Touch yourself. Play with it, and show me."

She tuts at him, considering depriving him of watching, but drops her knees to expose herself to him with a deadpan glare. One hand reaches for his wrist, and she drags it to her lips. She mouths the tattooed letters, H-O-L-D, across his knuckles, watching his reaction intently. 

The other hand dips lower, through the curls that frame her cunt. She traces the tips of her fingers into the growing, pooling moisture, using it to trace small circles around her clit. A jagged breath blows cool along his knuckles.

Stahl sighs another slow breath, watching her intently, and his dick twitches, hard, slapping against the soft skin of his stomach. He laughs, but it's almost silent, and his eyes flicker between her mouth, wet and open and red, pressed against his fingers, and the soft spray of curls between her legs; the way her fingers worked delicately around her entrance, the tips just slipping in for a brief second, and then drawing that silken moisture up and around her clit, again, and again.

Stahl palms himself, left handed and a little clumsy, and laughs, wriggles his toes against the cold floor. 

"Shit, honey, you are somethin' else. Somethin'  _ else _ . Put your- push your fingers inside for me, I wanna see how much you want it." 

He clasps the side of her face, tucking his fingertips behind her ear, and reaches his other hand out to her chest, sweeping her shirt open to one side, freeing her breast and pinching the nipple gently as he watches her.

“Could - _ ah-huh _ \- say the same about you.” 

She licks her lips, watching him mimic the action with his own. She kisses the hand cupping her face, considering breaking her ‘no kissing’ boundary. Shit, he’d have a delicious mouth to kiss. She pushes her chest into his hand, encouraging him to touch the unblemished curve of her breast.

She guides the hand down her belly, to the top of the trimmed curls getting wetter by the minute. Gene holds his gaze, opening her legs further, she slips a small finger inside. A gasp quietly rips through him. She lifts her hips, but it’s still fucking shallow, long, aching inches away from anything other than hinting pleasure. She pulls out, moistening her folds and clit, before slowly pushing her finger back in.

“Any other requests honey?”


	4. Chapter 4

The words ring in his head, and he bends forward, leaning heavily on the couch with one hand, beside her head, his knees landing between her thighs, his dick nudging the softness of her belly. 

"Just one." 

He cups her breast, roughly, his teeth catching his bottom lip, and she gasps and closes her knees around his middle. He parts them again, hooking his hand under her calf and laying it on his shoulder as he sinks to the floor. 

"Keep talking."

His hands are everywhere; trailing her stomach, grabbing hungrily at her hips, her thighs, her ass; his thumbs run down the coast of her skin, along the edge of the dark ocean between her legs, and his fingers brush over her clit gently, then firmer, and he mimics her action - dipping his finger to gather her wetness and trailing it back up over her clit, circling evenly, a little whirlpool in the tide of sensation.

His thumb digs into the join of her hip, just where her thighs meet her pelvis, stretching the muscle and spreading her wider, her pussy wet and hollow with desire for him. His fingers tease around her entrance again, and he lifted them to his mouth, a sparkling, glinting sheen of her wetness coating them as he pressed them to his lips. 

Stahl pulls the middle two of his fingers together, and kissed her thigh - and pushed them into her, deep and slow, shutting his eyes to let the beautiful sound of her wash over him.

Shit, shit, shit... Gene’s whole body tenses as he slides two long fingers into her, waking and teasing the parts of her she couldn’t reach. She takes a long, shaky breath, throwing her head back in a soft laugh, and tries to resume some semblance of the bratty composure she held before he got his hands on her.

“Well, what did you … hell, what did you want to hear?” He crooks a finger. “Something Shakespearean? Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” 

He repeats the action, meaner this time, nipping her thigh in response. 

“Watching you taste me then, putting your fingers in your mouth, really, really fucking did something for me.” 

His other hand, hungry on her body, leaves a trail of wildfire in its wake. She wishes she could take off the fucking shirt, overheated and desperate, as he left her burning. Stahl could render her to nothing but ashes, and she’d thank him on her knees for the privilege. She curls toward him, pushing the words out in a huffed breath. 

“Yo-you wanna hear every filthy thought I had earlier, watching you wait for me? Trying to work, ignoring how wet you made me?” 

Stahl’s long fingers pressed into her further, impossibly deep, retreating to tease at her entrance before pushing in again. 

“Thought - nnnnnnng - about taking you to that stupid back room. Riding your face, your cock, whatever you want to do to me.”

“Or,” another rough roll of her nipple, and she arches her back violently in response. Hooking the knee around his shoulder to steady herself, she grips the slipping shirt and tugs it tighter to her chest, covering the left-side and any ugly questions revealing herself may bring. She moves her hips slightly in tandem with his hand.

“You wanna hear how I think you like to be brought to your knees. Big guy like you, running his mouth like he owns the joint?” 

She hisses, legs gripping tighter, forcing him to look at her. 

“Yeah, I bet, deep down, you like to be pushed around - Shit, that’s good honey! - Yo-you want to use, and be used, for pleasure.”

She reaches for him, grabbing hands clumsy, nearly whining at the distance between them. 

“Stahl, honey, I want to touch you too.” 

He grabs her ankle, lifts her other leg up, bending her knee and setting her foot on the couch - and then his mouth, holy shit his mouth, latches on to her; soft lips locked against her skin, his nose buried in her pubic hair, and that warm, wet tongue circling her clit, his fingers still working inside her, curling against that little spot of heaven. He looks up at her, blue eyes wide and sparkling, rolling his tongue and sucking her clit.

Gene rolls needily against his mouth, desperate for every electric jolt of pleasure his tongue on brings. Stahl’s gaze on her makes her feel both powerful and vulnerable, the mean glint in his eyes as he sucks especially hard causes hers to roll back a little.

Somewhere, in the far back of her mind, the pretentious, well-read part of her remembers how the French refer to sex and climax; La petite mort, a little death, Stahl’s mouth killing every last part of her until there’s nothing left but the thunder building in her belly and the lightning of his tongue against her flesh. 

It’s nearly too much, she’s oversensitive before they’ve even really begun. She grounds herself by combing her fingers through the wisps of grey and black at his temples, the feel of his messy strands as she pulls and strokes them gently.

Stahl makes a muffled sound as her hands course through his hair, his eyes close for a second. She glances down at him through heavy eyelids; through the little gap between his shoulders and her thighs, she can see his dick, hard and wet with pre-ejaculate, a thin strand trailing from the head to the edge of the sofa and down to the floor. His hands are busy around her body, and she thinks, for a second, of how much he must be aching for her. 

She tugs his hair again, tipping his head back, and moans as his tongue works double time against the swollen, sensitive nerves - and then he pulls back, sudden and without warning, the wet sound of his mouth breaking its seal around her almost as much of a shock as the cool air hitting her wet skin. 

He hops to his feet, grinning smugly, his knees cracking loudly. 

"Get up, honey, over to the bed," he laughs, "my knees ain't what they used to be."

The sudden loss of contact makes her cry out in shock, and she scowls at him from behind a bitten fist. The ring on her right hand, a relic of failed domesticity, clicks against her teeth painfully. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she pushes up with some difficulty, moderately aware of the now damp fabric on the couch from both of their bodies. She flicks her fringe from her eyes, a poor attempt at being prim.

“Poor old man.” 

Gene pouts up at him, sliding forward on shaking legs to kneel in front of him, watching those blue eyes widen from bold confidence to curiosity. She skims her fingers and nose over his thin legs, so close to his leaking dick that she could taste a hint of him on his skin. Gripping his hips, she ghosts downwards, placing two chaste, tender kisses on each of his cracking kneecaps. Using his waist for leverage, she pulls herself up until her eyes are in line with his chest. Gene gives the flesh of his hip a playful swat, then walks slowly backwards towards the bed.

“Where did you want me honey?” She grins, before pulling an exaggerated pout. “Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

He sucks his teeth and shakes his head.

"You, sugar, are pushing your luck." 

He strides over and grabs her ass, pulling her tight against his body, then sweeps a hand up her back, into her hair, knotting his fingers there and tugging sharply. 

"I was playing nice, you don't know how good you had it. And I was gonna finish you off like that, rolling your pretty little cunt against my mouth -" 

He bends to kiss her, stopping sharply as his bottom lip touches hers, a little huff of hot air against her as he remembers - no kissing - and he sinks his mouth to her neck instead, his free hand shoving roughly between her legs and rubbing her wet pussy. He sucks his bottom lip, glistening wet with the taste of her. 

"You were gettin' close, weren'tcha? I could taste it. Here-" 

He pulls her head further back, then brings his other hand up to her mouth, pushes his fingers between her lips. 

"See what I mean? You taste good, don't you think?"

Gene shudders, grateful for the aching grip he has on her as his fingers fuck her mouth and pussy. His fingers against her tongue are long and intruding, she sucks the taste of her, of them, from them like a woman starved, nipping at them before soothing over the sting with her tongue. 

Her hand reaches up, threading in his dark hair in return. Her mouth waters, imagining the taste of their cum; Stahl’s grip in her hair as she sucks him off after he comes deep inside her. Judging by the growl vibrating deep in his chest, she wonders if he’s thinking the same.

Stahl drags his wet fingers from her lips to her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze as he rubs harsh shapes around her pussy. 

“I was talkin’ to you, honey.” 

He grins, dark and mean, and spins her roughly, her back flush to his chest. There’s that cool liquid drop of anticipation again, mixed with fear, pooling in Gene’s stomach as she throws her head back against his shoulder.

“So good, so fucking good Stahl, shit.” She babbles, twisting to pepper wet kisses across the swallows on his chest. 

“You spoil me honey.” 

Slinking her hand between where he’s pressing hard against her ass, she grips him and begins to move, mimicking the rough actions of his hand on her cunt. Rolling her head back, she adds, 

“Wanna spoil you too.”

He grunts, almost a sigh, and pushes into her hand blindly, his stomach sucking back with shock and pleasure, his hips rocking as his dick slides into the tight circle of her palm. God, that is good. 

His mind races with images; the way her shirt slipped from her shoulders earlier, the smooth outline of her breast in his hand, the slick wetness of her pussy, the taste of her mouth when she let him kiss her, the taste of cunt on his fingers - his grip in her hair loosens, his fingers trail around her neck, clasping her throat gently. 

"You like that?" he whispers, earnestly, against her ear, "tell me for real, not what you think I wanna hear. And fuck keep that up with your hand."

The laugh of indignance barely makes the surface, caught by the soft grip Stahl has around her throat. 

“D-darling, please,” she breathes. “You think you’d, mmmmmm, shi- you’d still have fingers, if I didn’t like what you were doing with them?” 

Stahl grunts in appreciation, responding with a particular cruel roll of her clit between his fingers. She stifles a groan from behind bitten lips, and strains on her tiptoes to press hurried, lazy kisses to his collarbone and neck. 

Gene tugs at his hair, pulling him close enough to plant a pointed kiss just beside his lips, spinning in his arms until she’s facing him again. She licks her palm that held his dick, wetting it before pumping and twisting her hand, feeling him leak against her thighs.

“Of course I like it. Hell-” 

Another shaky breath. 

“Honey, you could just keep running that pretty mouth while you jerk off and I’d be just peachy.” 

Her legs quiver, threatening to give out. 

“Stahl, you gotta help me get to that bed.”

Stahl bends quickly and tucks his arm under her knees, lifting her - not without effort and another loud crack from his joints - and with a little squeal and a dirty laugh from her beautiful mouth, he half throws her, half falls with her, onto the bed. His body presses down on her, he wriggles between her knees, fastens his mouth on her neck again, nipping with the barest hint of his teeth, and lets his dick lay, heavy and hard, against her pubic bone. She feels him throb, and wraps her arms around his neck, her nails scraping softly over his skin. 

He grinds against her, and she almost laughs at the little whine that escapes him, but his hand strays back to her throat, pushing down this time, just a little weight, just enough to make her breath catch. His face is still buried against her neck, but she can feel him smile, and his other hand comes down to pinch at her nipple again. 

He whispers, but his voice is almost hoarse with desire. 

"You just tap twice, okay, if anything gets too rough."

Gene nods, chin stalled by his hand. Her smart-arse retort about his back fades as she swallows hard, throat bobbing against his firm grip and his mouth. 

Desperate for contact, she tangles her legs around his, pushing her pelvis up to meet his. One hand fingers the traces of each vertebrae of his spine, stretching the pale skin of his back. Stahl shudders in response, fingers flexing around her throat. She grabs at the flesh of his ass, using it to pull him closer.

“Just keep talking to me, ‘kay?”

He rests his mouth against her cheek and whispers "well, what did you want to hear? Shall I compare thee to a..." he takes a breath, the cool air rushes against her skin, "a filthy little whore?" 

He laughs, quietly, and his thumb strokes briefly across her throat, then latches back at the point of her pulse, pinching, only gently, but enough, just enough, for her face to flush red and the oxygen to slow in her arteries, and a blissful light-headed wave to drift over her. 

"You like that, don't you? Ah, god, you're so wet, I can feel it from here. And you want it even more than I do, don't you? I want you, honey, my dick is so hard for you, but fuck... You want it now? You me to fuck you? You want my hard dick inside you?”

She grips his ass tighter in response, short nails dully trying to tear through skin.

“Yo-you’re so,” she tries, her obstructed inhale hissing through her teeth, “so mean, darling.”

The edges of her vision are hazy, heavenly. Like a small hit of Jet, without the comedown. Gene brings the hand from his hair to his lips, pushing and commanding them to open. Despite the hand on her neck, the weight of his larger frame entrapping her to the bed, Stahl obliges, sucking and kissing each finger. Using his spit, she reaches between them, jacking him off while she grinds herself against his hip and leg, desperate for any relief from her throbbing cunt. How the hell is he even harder?

“Of course I want, you, want this. Your dick’s fucking gorgeous.” 

Whether it’s the compliment or a particular tight twist of her hand, Stahl answers with a broken laugh against her neck. Gene nudges her pussy against his dick, using her slick to lube the thrust of his hand in her palm. She’s desperate for touch, running her free hand over his shoulders, his armpits, playing with his nipple before resting on his jaw. 

“Fuck, I want you. My mouth, my cunt, wherever. Why’re you holding out on me honey? Duh-don’t tell me you’re bored already.” 

"Maybe I just like to take my time," he whispers, but the thrust of his hips and flush of his face and neck say otherwise, "maybe you just - look so damn good when- ah! - when you want it so bad." 

His hand leaves her throat, eagerly finding her breast, and his other hand slides between them, lifting her fingers away from his dick. He grabs her knees again, bending them so her calves curve beautifully against his shoulders, and he rests his cock flat against her pussy, one hand dropping to roll her clit beneath his fingers again. 

"Fuck, baby, there's so many things I wanna do to you," his voice is almost shaking, she reaches for him again and he pushes her hand away, "I- no, no wait, hah, wait, you're gonna finish me off before we've even gotten started." 

He inhales deeply, his eyes devouring her body, the warm island of her shoulder against the loose collar of her shirt, the swell of her breast, the hard, pink-pointed nipple, the way the shirt bunched around her hips when he lifted her legs like this, the flat, delicious expanse of her naked thigh - and the wet, pink entrance of her pussy, hair matted slightly with her wetness, those dark curls, that swollen pink bead under his fingers.

He rolls his hips, it's almost involuntary, and his dick glides against that beautiful cunt, another thin stream of pre-ejaculate dribbling from the end of his cock, and he laughs, grabs himself quickly, pinching tight below the head and pulling away for a second. 

"Shit. Shit, honey, I'm gonna - I'm gone. Fuck. Just hold on, hold on," 

She’s nearly mad when he pulls away. Stahl looks achingly good strung out and so, so close, and her eyes roll back a little thinking of him fucking her, filling her as he cums again and again. Consequences be damned to the voice in the back of her head. 

He drops to one knee, clumsily pulling a little yellow tin box from under the bed, rummaging in it quickly and finds what he's looking for. He holds up the canister in his hand, the other hand still holding his cock tightly, and he gestures to Gene, his breathing still heavy. 

"You - you mind if I take a little hit? Means we, uh, we won't have to stop." 

He laughs, nodding at his dick. 

"You're welcome too, of course, if that's your sort of thing."

Taking a steadying breath - one of the first since he’s released her throat - she sits up on her elbows, motioning for him to show her the canister in his grasp. 

“Just Jet, yeah?” 

When he nods, she reaches for him, resting her fingers on the sticky trail of the V of his hips, smudged lips pulled mischievous. 

“Of course, honey. Wouldn’t want you to be, uh,” she lowers her voice, “too quick on the trigger.”

Stahl laughs breathlessly, standing up, and shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes. He grabs her by the back of the head, and pulls her face to his hips. 

"Suck my dick." 

Another one of those rich, dirty laughs pours out of her and across his stomach, and she rolls onto her belly and holds her mouth open wide, looking up at him, taunting him with those flashing copper coloured eyes. He grins at her, slaps her ass loudly with the edge of his palm, the canister still held tight in his fingers. She squeals and laughs again, and he catches her jaw in his hand, holding her stead as he finally - fuck, finally - pushes his aching cock into her mouth. 

It feels so good, so fucking good, the flat of her tongue lapping against the length of him, his head bumping against the roof of her mouth and - shit it's too good, he's right on the edge again in seconds, his balls clenching up tight and his stomach sucked in - 

"Fuck, honey- oh fuck, play with my balls, oh fuck-" 

She leans on her elbow and strokes her fingers along the underside of his balls, cupping them and squeezing gently, teasing the delicate skin with the points of her fingernails. He pushes deeper into her mouth with a groan, and lifts the canister to his mouth, hitting the button and sucking deeply, then lets it drop to the bed and his hands dig deeply into her hair, his fingers almost lacing together behind her head, holding her where he wants her. He tips his head back, his mouth open and tongue dry, the fat wave of pleasure breaking in his stomach, the bitter hiss of jet in his mouth. His eyelids close for a split second, for an aeon, his shoulders feel weak, his heart is hammering and the room is spinning away, nothing but absolute bliss...

He groans loud, his fingers tight in her hair as the bubble bursts, and he empties into her mouth as everything snaps back into sharp focus; like his whole being is shooting out of his dick and straight into that beautiful mouth, with its rolling tongue and soft, wet grip on him as he comes. His knees tremble and he lets his weight fall against the bed, sweating and panting and laughing, laughing because fuck, not a single thing, not a single, goddamn thing is better than- 

"Fuuuuck..." he finally finds his words, though his mouth feels slow and fat, and he can't speak fast enough, "that was- wait, baby don't swallo- can I kiss you? Please, baby, just- just once, can I-"

Heart hammering from his request and the thrust of his lips against her mouth, Gene considers him, wrecked and sweaty and so fucking free after coming, before nodding her head. Shifting nervously into a sitting position, she reaches for his face, letting him lean into her, millimetres from her lips. Slotting their knees together, so close she could nearly sit in his lap; she bridges the gap, softly moving her sore mouth against his almost tenderly.

Her grip on his jaw demands his mouth to open. Stahl obliges, and she rewards him, letting his cum seep into his mouth as he takes it greedily. She giggles into the kiss, using her thumb to chase the creamy spill from his lips. 

“You’re fucking depraved. You know I don’t kiss.” 

She presses close to him again, lets his tongue chase his taste from her mouth. 

“Making me break my rules, just so you can taste yourself. Filthy.”

He swallows, slowly, pointedly, and steals one more taste of her, pushing his mouth roughly against hers, but pulls back quickly, and his head lolls onto her shoulder. He fumbles beside her for the canister of jet, and places it delicately on her bare knee, kissing her neck softly, barely there, as his hands trail the edges of her shirt. He nods. 

"Filthy, yeah." 

A short, strangled laugh between heaving breaths. He clears his throat. God that was good. 

"You know I am. But- I think- you knew that already." 

His hand dips between her legs, brushing her clit, but he stops, shaking his head and rolls heavily onto the bed beside her, elbow slung across his eyes. He groans, equal parts satisfied and frustrated. 

"Just gimme a second, honey. That stuff'll kick in petty soon, and you can... ring the bell for round two."

Daintily wiping her lips on her collar, Gene pulls Stahl closer, pressing him to her pulse as she ran her fingers through his sex-matted dark hair. She always loved watching a man come. Watching him unravel from the inside, messy and intense, each muscle pulling tight as they contract and release, hissing through his teeth. Heart hammering against hers, Stahl is suddenly ten years younger; a skinny, dirty Atlas, with the weight of the wasteland lifted from his shoulders. She places a small kiss to the sweat on his forehead.

“You’re an animal,” she breathes, pushing back a strand stuck to his forehead, “but... that was an absolute treat. You always get so sweet when someone sucks you off?” 

He laughs, breathlessly, and swipes his hand across his face. 

"Sweet? No. Sweaty? Yeah." 

He meets her eyes for a second, his pupils wide and dark, and tucks his hands between her knees, just resting there. Her dark hair is loose around her face, and he leans up on his elbow to run his fingers through it, leaning his forehead on her shoulder. 

"Sorry, that wasn't quite the show stopper I'd planned for, but, uh... Well, when - if - you want me to finish you off, you just put me where you want me." 

He grins against her skin, kisses her shoulder softly and lies back, flat on his back again, one knee bent, his other foot hanging lazily off the edge of the bed. He grunts, quietly, and shuffles his hips, paws half consciously at his dick, lying soft and curled against the join of his hip, a wet streak of cum smeared on his pale skin.

An ugly snort of a laugh rips through her chest, and she rolls into her back. 

“And here I thought we were having a moment.”

Curling into the crook of Stahl’s arm, Gene pressed her face into his neck. He wraps an arm around her waist, the other stroking himself, and she tastes the aforementioned sweat from his jugular. 

“Uh,” she clears her throat, the thought hovering silently in mid-air. “Look, uh. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I … I usually can’t, you know.” 

She gestured to the evidence of his own orgasm painted across his stomach.

“It’s a me thing, so don’t make it weird. Or, like, a hit to the fragile male ego.”

Embarrassed heat floods her face, and she pushes her face further against his throat, distracting herself with the contrast of his white skin against her tan. 

“So if this is all you’ve got in you, that’s good.” 

She rubs her nose against his. 

“More than good. Fucking great, actually.” 

Grinning back at his smirk, she held her lips milimetres from his own. 

“I’m not going to say no if you’re game though.”

"You're goddamn right I am." 

He flicks idly at the head of his cock, wipes at the wet patch on his leg. 

"Not to sound like a total asshole but I didn't... Well, no, hah," he clears his throat, "lemme say this better. I've been thinking about what it's gonna feel like inside your pussy since we got through the door, and I don't intend to wait much longer to find out."

“Oh thank God!” Gene responds in a breathless giggle, grazing his earlobe with her teeth. A little bolt of adrenaline contracted the muscles low in her belly. Increasingly aware of the wet pooling again between her thighs, she pressed against his hip. One small hand wraps around his, letting him guide her up and down his dick.

“Anything I can do to help honey?”

His nerves fizz under her hand, and his eyes roll back for a second as her thumb swipes over the head of his dick. The sweet cloud of jet fog around his senses dissipates, and he arches his back, a low little groan pressing tight between his teeth. 

"Ahw- oh fuck, honey, that- hah!" 

His hips writhe as her fingers take over from him, and the sensation burns under his skin, too hot, too much, like a static shock through all of the tiny frayed ends of him, and he laughs, flinching. 

"Oh, shit, sto-ah! Stop, ah hell... Honey that's good but... Ease up, 'kay, take it slow." 

He cups his hand behind her knee, pulling her thigh across him, rolling her up onto his lap. 

"Why don't you just..." 

His eyes sweep her slowly, the soft folds of her shirt pooling between her legs, and his hands squeeze her waist, her hips, as he pushes his own hips up to meet her ass. The movement pulls at her shirt, exposing the burnt skin of her chest for a second as she scrambles to pull the left arm back onto her shoulder. He’s hot and goddamn tempting between her legs, her knuckles bleached white from gripping her slipping collar.

“Shit honey - sorry!” 

Another roll of her hips, and the wet head of him glides between her soft folds, teasing at her entrance. So close but entirely too far from where she craves him. 

“Just, uh... been thinking about you all night too.” 

Her anxious fingers carve out the shadow under his cheekbone. 

“Honey, I’m dying to feel you. You, uh, let me know when you’re good.”

His hand quests along the bedsheet for the jet, and, finding it, he looks at her, grinning, and takes another quick hit. 

"Nothin'...personal, you understand." 

He sighs, his head rolling back against the mattress. And after a moment, it's clear what he's getting at; his dick twitches, and he grinds up against her body, one hand squeezing her ass and coaxing her up onto her knees. His other hand ghosts down his stomach, and he strokes himself, quickly, then angles his cock up against her hole, pushing the head close, so close, to being inside her, and he hesitates, breathing slowly, thumb trailing down the thin blue vein that stretches the length of his dick. 

"If I were a better man, I'd make you wait for it." He laughs. "But I'm a selfish asshole."

He waits for a second anyway, until the major fog of jet has cleared and he's left with almost nothing but foaming lust, and he watches her eyelids droop as he holds himself there. 

Then he pushes. Rolling his hips upward and sliding into her, hands grabbing the curve of her hips. Sensation flashes like lightning through the jet-cloud, and it lights up his guts in a bright streak; he grits his teeth and groans loudly, his mouth falls open and his eyes struggle to focus for a second. And he mutters, his jaw slackening as his dick sinks deep inside the heat of her wet cunt. 

"Goddamn if that ain't always the best part-"

Gene’s nails leave half-moon divots on the pale flesh of his chest, gripping him none-too-gently as he slides home. She clenches around him, inch by gratifying inch, until their hips are flush against each other, hissing at the familiar stretch. 

“Shit, Stahl.” A strangled laugh. “And here I thought I was the one making you wait for it.” 

He responds with a smirk, guiding her up the length of him before pulling her down with a particularly cruel snap of his hips. Sensation, violent and crushing, jolts through her as his head hits her cervix, entirely too much and definitely not enough. Her teeth threaten to split her lip as she bites down to ground herself. 

“Shi-uhh, honey!” 

She crawls over him, desperate not to break contact from where they’re joined, searching for the discarded Jet canister. 

“Might need a hit, if I’m gonna do you justice.”

He smiles and rolls his head lazily to look for the jet, when her fingers reach it and she swipes it up, giving it a little shake. His hands rest against the tops of her thighs, stroking gently, hypnotically, little sweeps of his knuckles against her stomach, and his hips rock impatiently against her, throbs of fat sensation washing her as she tries to keep her balance. 

As she lifts the canister to her mouth, the collar of her shirt slips down over her shoulder, and it's all Stahl can do not to lick his lips at how good she looks - sat there, straddling his hips, her dark curls falling loose from where they were pinned earlier and tumbling against her shoulder, her mouth a mess of faint and smeared red lipstick, golden tan and smooth skin, knees squeezing against his ribcage, and the tight warmth of her pussy around his dick... 

He rolls his head back again, groaning as his dick throbs inside her. 

"You're gonna be the death of me. I can feel it."

She blushes, colouring her cheeks and neck. Gene brushes the thumb of her free hand against his cheek, and her bronze eyes meet the blue of his, startlingly clear through the jet. 

“Likewise…”

Hitting the button, Gene inhaled deeply, letting it’s soft bitterness taint her mouth. It hits her bloodstream quickly, instantly, fizzing through her veins as each atom burns bright then out to a warm hum, vision momentarily white. She can feel Stahl move slightly within her, little increments, deliciously filling her with none of the previous sting. She shudders involuntarily, slumping down onto shaky elbows over him. 

“Goddamn, that’s good.” She laughs breathlessly, kissing the sweat and stubble of his jaw. 

“I’ve never fooled around on Jet before.” She peeps up at him from under her messy fringe, blue matching copper.

“You wanna show me how?”

He reaches around her and squeezes her ass as she settles against him, the soft weight of her breasts against his chest. 

"Ain't much to show, honey, just keep... Ah, yeah, just-" 

His other hand winds tight in her hair, jerking her head back and arching her spine; he kisses her neck, his fingers smoothing up her body, tracing the curve beneath her shirt, gathering small beads of sweat as they formed in the hollow of her back.

And his hips; rolling and grinding against her, pushing up into her at a tight angle and sending wave after wave of hot sensation rushing through her insides. He presses his face to her chest, kissing the smooth skin at her breastbone, his lips dry, but a thin line of perspiration caught above his top lip. He groans again, almost a growl, a rich, deep animal sound, as she clenches her thighs.

She matches the momentum of his hips, clumsily at first, finding a rhythm. She can feel each ridge and vein of his dick, washing pleasure through her like the tide against the shore. The rumble of his groan sends vibrations to her core, his grip on her hair sharp; she matches it with a warning hand around his throat, pinching a nipple with the other.

“Is-ah! Christ, is this living up-” she takes a steadying breath,“up to your expectations?”

He swallows hard under her hand, and pushes against it, just a little, arching his back and stretching his neck. His hips pick up speed, hammering into her fast and sharp, and his arm wraps tight around her waist, the other hand still knotted in her hair. 

"Oh fuck baby, yeah, oh fuck you feel so good-" his teeth graze her neck, hot breath from his nose fanning across her skin. His words stream together, punctuated by the slap of his skin hitting hers, the bones of his hips clashing against the softness of her thighs and ass, and - 

"Fuck - you - feel - so - good..." 

He tugs her hair again, scrambles to sit upright, wrapping her legs around him, one arm tucked under her shirt holding desperately to her, his breathing ragged. 

"Oh, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good... Oh my god. Auhh, hell, ride me, baby, ride my dick, real deep, roll those hips for me..."

Even through the sweat-drenched barrier of her stupid shirt, she can feel every inch of him against her. The sharp juts of his hip and collarbones digging into her soft flesh, the searing burn of where his hand is anchored in her hair, his grip on her back sending molten heat to lick down her spine. Each thrust is a call, beckoning for release, and she reciprocates, grinding and frantic. 

"Fuck, fuck, honey. Stah-shit!" He's swearing against her skin, and she mimics it back. 

"Holy he- shit. You feel better, so much better- fuck! So much better than I thought you would." 

He hits, relentlessly, against that spot deep in her, and Gene's not sure if it's the jet or his dick or some magical combination of both that makes her see stars. Her fingers flex around his throat, too tight for a moment. She kisses his jaw in apology, gripping his dark hair at the nape of his neck.

Stahl's fingers dig into her back, and he drops his hand from her hair, his palm brushing the scarred skin of her face without a care. He wraps her tightly in his arms, heaves a sigh, and rolls them both, quickly, until Gene is on her back and Stahl is arched over her, his knees digging against the bed frame. He pulls out, stands up straight for a moment, and grabs her thighs, hauling her down the bed until her ass is hanging over the edge, then drops to knees. 

The impact of her back against the mattress leaves her breathless, wrapping her legs in a vice-like grip around his waist, desperate to make up for the few seconds his skin wasn’t flush with hers. Stahl is gorgeous and wild above her, brow furrowed in concentration against the brutal slap of his hips. Gene’s lips blindly capture his likeness, chasing the salt from his cheek, the top of the lip, down his jaw to the swallows on his chest. 

Someday, she thinks dimly, - if I ever come down from this - ask him why one has - a dagger and the other - doesn’t.

He hooks his arms under her knees, lifting them to his shoulders, lining himself up with one hand, and she gasps his name - he sinks his cock into her quickly, filling her pussy for a beautiful moment, then pulling almost all the way out again in a heartbeat. He does it again, and again, the firm ridge of the head of his dick hitting that button hard as he pushes in, dragging over her sparkling nerves and making her moan as he pulls back. He revels in the sound of her voice, closing his eyes for a moment; when he opens them, they're bright and hungry, and he falls forward, his elbows at either side of her, slamming his hips desperately into her.

She had never been a screamer, but Stahl’s drawing sound from her. Short, breathy whines each time he pushes into her, each move somehow deeper than the last. She snakes her hands between them. Her nose nudges the upturned tip of his. 

“You - uh - you’ve gone-” her finger tips gather the slick leaking between them. “Gone so quiet on me.” 

Her left hand pulls jagged abstract shapes around her clit. The right slinks down to gently cup his balls. 

“Darling, you’ve got to tell me what you want.”

He gasps through his clenched teeth as her hand traces his balls, his mouth falling open. 

"Oh fuck yeah, play with my balls honey, oh shit that feels so good. Go on, more, like tha- ah! Yeah, rough, don't be shy. Ah, fuck!" 

Her grip tightens wickedly, nipping at the sensitive skin with her nails, and he flinches and whines like a kicked dog, tenses for a second, bolt upright, his shoulders and jaw clenched. Then he laughs, curses, shudders a little, his hips holding still for a second. 

"Oh shit, that was cruel," he laughs, slumping over and pressing his head against the soft cotton of her shirt, "baby, that was evil." 

He pants against her stomach, then sits up, looking her in the eye, through hazy focus. 

"Do it again." he laughs. "Harder."

Well shit, wasn’t that something? Stahl reacts violently, gloriously, starting from her hand and rippling through him, nearly visible through his taught white skin. She feels mean, and powerful, a devilish smirk pulling at the corner of her sore lips. She loosens her grip on him, letting the very tips of her short nails trace over the contours of his balls. The other hand dips lower, barely tracing the line between his asshole and balls. Gene nips at his neck, snarling at him.

“Ask nicely.”

"Ah, fuck..." he closes his eyes, laughing, curls inward, his head rested against her ribcage, then takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

"... Please. Please do that again, harder..." he shakes his head, like he's indulging her, "Ma'am. Or whatever."

She giggles at the formality, letting it vibrate through where his head rested on her stomach. 

“You are such a little shit.”

Gene fingers trace him, feather light, revelling in the shuddering inhale it draws from him. Moving her hips against his, her eyes roll back a little, each barely there swipe of her fingers makes him tense and flex deep inside her. She weighs his balls in the palm of her hand.

“Seeing as you asked so nicely.” 

She squeezes. Hard.

He yelps and curls over her, grabbing a fistful of the bedding and grinding his teeth at the searing pain that shoots through him on the tail of the throb of pleasure from her fingers. His face rests against the loose opening of her shirt, his temple pressed against the skin of her chest, and she strokes his hair, softly, hushing him; he groans, somewhere between an animal sound of pain and an adrenaline fuelled laugh, and his hand worms its way between them and fastens around her wrist, pulling her away. 

"Jesus that hurt," he laughs, eventually, catching his breath, "I dunno what I was expecting." 

He groans again, lifts his head, leaning on his elbows.

"Hoo, boy that was sore." 

Gene looks concerned for a moment, then rolls her eyes at him. 

"You asked, didn't you?" 

He nods, his mouth hanging open. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Sometimes you gotta tell me no." He laughs. "Did feel kinda good though, in a stupid way. Like the first time I got someone to punch me in the face." 

He laughs again, pulling out of her, his erection wilting a little, and gives himself a few short tugs, his eyes wandering over her, his thumb swiping at the wet mess of her pussy. 

"God, that's pretty. You're so fucking hot, y'know that?" 

His hand works at the length of his cock, and he hardens again as she watches him - because she's watching him, maybe - his fist pumping quickly around the head, and he bites his lip, his other hand straying over his nipple. 

"Show me your tits, honey, I wanna see 'em so bad." 


	5. Chapter 5

She could be happy, blissfully, strung out happy, just to watch him like this. Watching him touch himself, pupils blown out black with lust as he jerks off. The mention of him being punched has her moaning, her imagination bringing up the image from the bar. Stahl, bruised and bloody and so fucking touch starved. She imagines bringing him to heel with the back of her hand. She wonders if he’ll let her taste the trickle of red from his mouth.

Her hand, independently, crawls down her stomach to touch herself in turn. Stahl reaches out, squeezing her tits. 

"Show me your tits, honey, I wanna see 'em so bad."

His voice is slurring just a little, from the mixture of adrenaline and endorphins and jet swirling in his blood. His hand reaches out to her chest, cupping her breast and squeezing firmly, trailing the buttons of her shirt. He closes his eyes, shakes his head. 

"Sorry, sorry that's not... You already said no."

For a second, for an eternity. Pressure rings in her ears as anxiety floods her system. Dimly in the background, she can hear him apologising as she closes her eyes, swallowing hard to bring herself back down to earth. 

Rolling onto her knees, she crawls over to him.

“Thank you. It’s uh, it’s not that I don’t want to. Trust me, there’s nothing more I want to do than take this fucking shirt off.” 

Huffing a humourless laugh, she wraps her arms around his neck, avoiding the piercing blue gaze. 

“It’s just… not that pretty under there anymore.”

She motions to where the edges of the burn mottle and blend with the smooth at her sternum, linen slipping from where he’s cupped her. 

“Don’t wanna scare you off.”

He listens, still a little stunned, while she speaks, almost spilling something stupid about how she's the prettiest goddamn thing he's ever seen in this town and a little bit of a wasteland tan ain't gonna shake that, but he doesn't, just stares at her, breathing through his nose and watching her mouth.

She’s not sure whether it’s the jet, his gaze, or his frank openness with her, but she feels that pull in her chest. That familiar, compelling tug; magnetic. Shuffling forward, she captures his lips in hers. His breath catches, and he holds still, letting her lead; caught completely off guard, he falls into the kiss like he's in a dream. His mouth opens and his tongue sweeps against hers, and for a moment there isn't anything else, just the softness of her mouth, her fingers in his hair, her nails dancing down his back...

Gene moves her mouth against his, slowly, cautiously. One hand in his hair, the other memorising the geography of his spine to rest at the small of his back. Gene nips and sucks at his bottom lip, and he opens for her, letting their tongues search for the remaining traces of his cum left on their lips. She groans, pulling away, and he looks at her, breathless, then grins at her, huffs a little sigh. 

"Play with my ass."

She cackles, throwing her head back, and slaps his ass with a sharp smack, “One condition.” 

She grabs his jaw, forcing him to look her in the eye, staring him down - well, up - until he nods against her palm. 

“You’ve got to talk me through it, capiche? I’ve not done this before, and I’m not hurting you just because you’re too much of a masochist to say when it’s too much. Already nearly broke the family jewels.” 

His balls throb at the thought. Talk me through it, capiche? He laughs, pulling her close. 

"Yes ma'am, that I can do. You gotta gimme just a second -" 

He hops from the bed and darts to the bathroom; the water from the shower runs briefly, then everything is quiet for a second…


	6. Chapter 6

Stahl nipping to the bathroom gives Gene a much needed minute to cool off. To exhale the deep breath she didn’t know she was holding, heart still hammering in her throat. Without his distracting mouth or, you know, she slowly becomes more aware of the sweat soaking her through, the mess they’re made on their bed and thighs. It’s not... unpleasant. It’s just there, and not for the first time since she arrived she wanted to burn the fucking shirt. To be beautiful or brave enough to follow him into the shower. 

An involuntary shudder rolls through her when she thinks of him taking her under the shower head, to feel every inch of his skin pressed up against her whilst the water pressure melts away the strain in their muscles. Perhaps, maybe, if she could convince him to let her keep her back to him? 

She’s still debating following him when the water shuts off. Grateful for the half-drunk glass of water forgotten on his nightstand, she takes a quick swig, before stretching out like a cat, holding and releasing the tension built up in her muscles. He re-emerges a little less flushed with jet, but still floating on that high, grinning and half wet; she holds out her arms to him, and he flops down on the bed, grabbing at her waist and wrapping themselves together again. 

"All yours, sweetheart. Squeaky fucking clean."

Goddamn if he wasn’t something from the dark parts of her imagination. Gene kisses the swallows on his chest, tasting the moisture off their wings, and fuck he smells fucking amazing. Still of salt, and leather, cigarettes and beer, but faded out, making way for something uniquely him. It draws a throb deep in her gut, and, heart hammering again for entirely different reasons, she kisses up his jaw. 

“You smell good. How does this work, Stahl?”

"How does it work?" He laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulders; his other hand snakes down between her thighs again. 

"You just... Sorta... Take your time..."

His fingers trail circles around the entrance of her cunt, the tip of his middle finger teasing at her, and then he slides it in, slow and smooth. 

"It's not so different from doin' this y'know? Only that-" his second fingers pushes into her, deep beside the first, and he beckons at her g-spot, "-that hot little button feels a little different." 

She bites her lip and laughs breathlessly against his face, rolling her hips up to let him deeper. He presses his mouth to her neck, breathing her name;

"Fuck, Gene, you're so wet..." 

Throwing her hips softly, in time with his fingers, Gene forgets for a few minutes that this was meant to be educational. Yes, she could do this, this felt familiar. The same as when she touched herself most nights, frustrated and wanting and needing that push to fall asleep. When Emily, so confident and coy, her only friend at that stupid boarding school, had taken her trembling hand, sliding it between her legs whilst she breathed, “yes, Gene, there” against her mouth…

Stahl lifts his head, draws his hand away, and reaches under the bed, fumbling around for a second, brows furrowed in concentration. With a little noise of triumph, he lifts a short bottle out and onto the bed, dropping it into her lap, and the cold glass almost bites at her hot skin. His hand sweeps down the side of her body, round the curve of her ass, and he squeezes, grabbing a rough handful, his fingertips brushing at her entrance again. His smile is teasing, but there's honest excitement in his eyes, he doesn't even try to hide it. 

"I might need a little assistance, if you want me to get as wet as you. So where d'you want me?"

She nearly whimpers when he withdraws, ready to drag him back and touch her, goddamn it. But his face is flushed and grinning and shamelessly eager, tossing the bottle at her with the kind of casual enthusiasm of someone who had clearly done this before, but is biting at the bit to do so again. And dammit, if she wasn’t going to try and find all the ways she could get him off.

Okay, focus. Taking a steadying breath, she opens the small glass bottle with her teeth, pouring a little of its contents onto her fingers. It’s viscosity isn’t that much different from the slick Stahl’s drawing from between her legs, and she lets it pool and slip until it’s covering her index and middle fingers. Gene leans over to him, quickly pecking the smirk from his dry lips.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” She grumbles against his lips. “I mean it - first second it doesn’t feel right, you have to tell me.”

"Don't worry, babe, I'm a talker," he laughs, "you'll know." 

He lays back against the headboard of the bed, propped upright, spreading his legs and hiking his knees up, tucking one hand under his thigh. He laughs at her expression, a mixture of lust and concern and nerves, and shakes his head. 

"You don't have to worry, babe. I had things a whole lot more... challenging than your fingers." 

He kisses her chin, chasing her as she pulls away from him, their eyes locked. His voice drops, and he murmurs against her skin, almost taunting. 

"Bobby MacCready's cock, for one. Boy's as big as a fuckin' nuka bottle. You ain't gonna break me."

Gene blinks up at him, temporarily stunned. 

“That … I was not expecting. Uh, ho- y’know nevermind.” 

She leans into where he kisses her skin, mirroring it down his jaw and neck.

Sliding down, she follows the path down his long body with digits and tongue, resting her head on where the trail of hair starts just under his naval. Keeping his gaze, she wraps her fingers around his nearly-hard dick, pumping him slowly before cupping his balls with a cock of her eyebrow. 

Gene’s stomach drops with anticipation, a red flush blooming on her chest as wicked, perverse joy courses through her veins. The little thrill she got whenever she took a five finger discount, or went without underwear, or any of the little acts of deviance she was always scolded for. 

Only sick, awful girls do this, Imogene. Stahl is six feet of wicked escapism, and she stares him down as her hand dips lower. 

Featherlight, she traces the ring of his asshole, before turning her palm up. Stahl throws his head back, letting out a long exhale as she pushes one finger in gently. Gene kisses the V of his hips.

Carefully, she retreats nearly all the way out, before pushing in with more force.

“Like this, darling?”

"Exactly like that. Darling." He mimics her pronunciation, with a wry little smirk, and she squeezes his balls again, tight. He coughs and jerks his knees up with a pained laugh, his ass clenching tight around her finger, and she stares at him, her eyes wicked and hard for a second.

"Don't push your luck." 

He holds his hands up apologetically and takes a deep breath. 

"Alright, alright. I'll behave. Good as I know how, anyway." 

Her other fingers trace his skin, through his sparse, wiry pubic hair, over the soft folds and wrinkles of his nuts, up the shaft of his hardening cock, trailing the pattern of that thin blue vein... And she pushes her finger into his ass again, a little faster this time, and again, and again, pulling out slowly, pushing into him firmly. 

He sucks in his stomach, tensing his thighs, and she dips her head and kisses the smooth cavern below his ribs; his skin is colder, clammy and a little damp at the points of his hips and shoulders, his fingers, his kneecaps, but there's heat here, and he moans softly as her breasts rest against his groin. 

"That's good, baby, just like that..." 

She looks up at him, and he looks down at her; her eyes, almost glowing in the yellow light, her lips, as she runs her tongue over them, like a cherry split open and wet with tantalising liquid, and down her neck, her collarbone, her smooth, golden skin... 

He sighs sharply at the movement of her hand, and she sits up a little, smiling devilishly. He grins, stifling a sound, biting his lip, and his gaze falls to her chest, the front of her shirt billowing wide and open as she moves. He catches a flash of her breasts - both of them, the rough, mottled skin scarred in pink and red against her smooth tan, and the darker point of one hard nipple, the little silver bar glinting as she moves - and he grunts, clenching his muscles, his dick twitching up hard as he imagines taking it into his mouth. Forbidden fruit, ain't that the truth.

He laughs, and reaches his hand out to take her breast in his palm - the one he's allowed, anyway. She sits up awkwardly - trying not to break the rhythm her finger is establishing in him. Stahl palms her good breast, pinching and tweaking her nipple. The tug on the little bar there draws a hiss through the gap in her front teeth.

Gene’s nails scrape the dip of his clavicle, and she rests her weight there. Thumb pressing into where his neck meets his shoulders. Their faces so close that all she can breathe is his air, beer and smoke and carbon dioxide, the same white vertigo when he clenched on her throat earlier.

“I’m beginning to understand this reputation of yours.” She growls into his ear, before kissing the skin below his earlobe. The points of her canines catch the skin there. 

“You’re a glutton for punishment.”

He shakes his head, his chest rising sharply with his breathing. 

"Nah, baby, you're one of the lucky ones; I don't ask just anyone to bust my balls and finger my ass." 

He laughs, and it comes out hitching as her finger moves inside him. 

"But really, I don't, so just... I ain't ashamed of it but - ah- don't let it get around. I like my reputation just fine how it is, thanks."

She shakes her head at him. 

“Honey, I know better than to kiss and tell.”

The same sharp teeth catch at his neck, then nipples as she works her way back down his chest, letting her lips soothe the sting before nipping harder. Aching to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, she pushes a second finger in, crooking slightly towards his navel.

She resumes her rhythm - out, in, crook - as she straddles his legs. Spreading slightly, she ruts against his thigh. The edge of his femur gives just enough friction to keep her wet and dripping. She stares him down, gripping the base of his dick.

Stahl matches her eyes with a smirk, and she can nearly hear him drawl go on then, honey. I dare ya. She winks back. Fine.

The remnants of her lipstick colour the blue veins along his dick as she runs open lips over it, flicking slightly with her tongue. Gene teases his head, letting it barely enter her mouth, before tasting a lungful of air in through her nose. Licking her lips, she takes him into her mouth, then further, small tears welling up as he hits the back of her throat. She swallows around him.

He gasps, a high girlish noise in the back of his throat, and laughs at himself, his fists bunching the bedsheets as she swallows the head of his dick. 

“Ohh, fuck!" His eyes flutter and roll back for a moment, "auhh, holy shit. That's- so good, oh fu-" 

He bucks his hips involuntarily, arching his back off the bed as her fingers rub over his prostate. His hand shoots up against the headboard, slamming loudly and startling her, and he groans as she pulls back a little, her eyes flicking up to his. 

"Right there, with your fingers, baby, right there. Fuck, that's so good, pu- h- put your- your hand like-" 

He reaches down, tucking his balls into his hand for a moment, squeezing roughly, then circles his fingers around them, around the base of his cock, encircling them in a tight loop, and the effect is almost instant. His cock twitches in her mouth, a thin stream of pre-cum dripping against her tongue, and he spreads his legs wider.

Gene chokes around his dick as he thrusts roughly into her throat; the burn through her neck is nothing compared to the aching throb when he moves his leg from where she’s riding it. She shudders a breath, tongue licking up the mess of precum and saliva connecting her mouth to his dick. 

Linking her fingers through where he grips himself, she guides his hand to her hair, encouraging him to pull the strands off her face. Retreating her fingers from his ass, she circles and teases his entrance, licking his cock.

She bobs her head shallowly, quickly, before taking him again. Her fingers search for his prostate, milking him urgently, barely tasting the pre-cum dripping down her throat. Breathing heavily through her nose, she drifts back to how he felt inside her. She clenches her thighs together, tightly, desperately, tries to put herself in his place. She had never been a giver or receiver of this kind of sin, but the way it rouses something feral in Stahl tempts her to push both their limits.

“Feel good, honey? I want you to fucking tell me.” 

"... Whaddya think I'm doing?" He pants, laughing again, "Not loud enough for you?"

Her fingers work inside him, rubbing and arching against his prostate, and his stomach tenses, his chest and neck flush hot with pleasure, his legs tremble. When he speaks again, his voice is shaking. 

"Ohhh, fuck, you're- jesus stop or I'm gonna come again."

He sits up sharply, pushes her away roughly, and hangs his hands between his knees, cupping himself for a moment, chest heaving. He looks at her, nipping a loose hair of hers from his chest. 

"Well that was... fucking great, but I'm bein' selfish again. C'mere." 

He beckons her to him, flattening his knees to the bed, and she climbs into his lap, slotting herself eagerly onto his hard cock and sliding her pussy slowly down the length of him with a low, dirty moan.

Gene’s cunt clenches involuntarily as he fills her again, hitting her deep with a gargled “oh, damn” deep in her throat. Rolling her hips in tight circles, she stretches out the tension in her lower back, before leaning behind her to rest her weight on his thighs.

“What do you think I was trying to do, honey?”

Rocking shallowly on her heels, his dick knocks against her g-spot methodically. Dimly, she can feel her shirt slipping off her shoulders, but the fire licking and simmering in her belly distracts her. 

“I had a bet with myself... how many times I could get you off...”

She can feel Stahl watching her, the trembling in his legs subsiding as he leans back against the bed frame. She glares at him, tasting copper where her teeth have split her lip.

“Jesus Christ, touch me, Stahl.” 

When he moves his hand to trace the faint white stretch marks streaked across her hips and ass, she nearly growls at him.

“You gonna keep lying there? Have I worn you out?”

"I'm sheets, babe, I really am." He laughs, running his hands down her thighs, his hair stuck to his face and wet with sweat. "But just for you, just for you and that sweet fucking pussy-" 

He lifts her knees sharply and drops her onto her back, his dick popping out of her with an obscene and comedic sound, and there's a brief, tangible moment where it all almost shatters into a giggling mess... Instead he slaps her ass, raising one of her legs high and swinging it past his shoulder, turning her so she's sprawled and spread on her belly, leg folded up by her side. He lies against her back, his elbow digging heavily into the mattress, one hand wrapped at the ankle of her bent leg, his other snaking around her throat and pinching tight. 

"You want it like this?" 

His hand leaves her ankle, gripping his dick firmly and pushing into her, slow but hard, really hard, and fuck it feels deep like this.

The dirty barked laugh, the exclamation of “fucking, finally” - it all dies in her mouth when Stahl sacrifices her air with her neck in his hands. Trapped between his body and the mattress, there is little room to move - despite her toes gritting into the sheets, she can only rut a centimeter or two against his dick, to where it splits and impales her far further than she ever managed on her own. It melts away her usual claustrophobia, leaving nothing but the dim ringing in her ears and small, but growing, pinpricks of fire. On her ass, where the salt of his sweat irritates where his slap left marks. In her lungs, breathless and burning as the edges of her vision start waving, like she’s spent too long underwater, limbs too heavy to reach the surface.

Stahl kisses her wetly against her cheek, grazing at her ear with his teeth. 

“I’m talkin’ to you, babe.”

She rolls her head heavily against his, lips resting against his cheek as he withdraws, before slamming his hips brutally against her stinging ass again and again, each repetition coaxing a hoarse hiccup from her. Half-aware, Gene’s hand crawls between them. She gently squeezes his balls, before slipping a finger inside her cunt where she’s split around him,and fuck that was a tight fit, she might be sore in the morning. Gene gathers her slick, before using it to draw clumsy, half-drunk circles around her clit.

She knows she’s incoherent, unintelligible; the nerves that control her mouth have died to give extra life to where Stahl ruthlessly fucks her cunt. The hand on her throat pulls her roughly back, her spine hitting his chest as he pounds her with bruising ferocity. 

“Use me, fuc-honey! Use me, shit honey, don’t sto-please.”

A hand that doesn’t feel like her own reaches back, carding into his hair; an anchor, a lifejacket, anything, but it’s too late, far too late. She’s drowning, weightless, thrown violently against the tide, every muscle contracting and clamping as they cling desperately for air. It’s not enough, not nearl enou-

The tide breaks, or maybe she does. White hot pleasure sears through her at a lightning pace as she falls apart around him with a low, heaving sob. Her toes crack as she curls them into the mattress.

She double-taps the hand cupping her throat, before falling heavily down on the bed. He stops, dropping his hand, still arched over her, but his body softens and stills; he heaves himself off of her, rolling to his feet, wiping a hand across his forehead and through his hair. 

"You okay? You want some... Water, or..." 

His dick still stands hard to attention, and for a moment, he feels a little self conscious and absurd, watching her uncoil on the bed.

Gene can feel her shoulders shaking, Stahl’s concerned eyes on the back of her neck, but it takes more than a few seconds to realise she’s laughing silently behind her bitten fist. Snorting, she rolls onto her back, pressing her fingers to her eyes to rub at the tears and messed makeup there. 

"Hell, honey, I think you killed me." She laughs, slightly breathless and manic. "That never fucking happens." 

Her throat burns, a little, too blissed out to be anything else than a dull irritant. 

"Water would be g-great, please."

He grabs the glass from the nightstand, and ducks into the bathroom to refresh it for her. When he returns, she's lying on her back, one knee bent almost modestly, and her arms are draped above her on the mattress. He sits beside her on the edge of the bed, folding his legs, one hand hanging into his lap, and holds the glass out to her. His dick nudges clumsily at his wrist, and he cups himself in his palm, picking at a stray hair. 

"Never happens, huh? I think you told me I wasn't allowed to let it be a hit to my ego. What about now? Can I lord it over all the other folks you done the dirty with, just for a little while?" 

He laughs, and she sits up, glaring at him playfully, and takes the water. He nudges her knee with his. 

"And you kissed me. Starting to think we're in love." 

He grins mischievously, and stretches out, vertebrae popping as he lies back and stretches his arms wide. She rolls her eyes, lazily slapping his thigh with the back of her hand.

“That’s sweet. you planning on getting down on one knee soon?” 

She stretches out to put the empty glass back on the nightstand, before curling up against his long legs. Her ring finger memorises the shapes at the junction of his hips.

“I don’t think I can wear white after this.”

He laughs, then wraps his hand around his cock, stroking gently.

"Gonna finish me off, or should I do it myself? No hard feelings if you wanna take a little cat nap."

There’s still a heat in her belly, but it’s less urgent now; little embers burning and flickering rather than the inferno before. Watching him palm himself, so casually and shamelessly despite the small twitches in his abdomen, twists something pleasingly. Locking eyes with him, she licks her lips at him slowly, mirroring his grin as her tongue catches on her sharp left canine.

“I might need some more jet if you wanna go for round three, honey. Otherwise, I’d be happy to repeat your little party trick from earlier.” She wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“That was something, uh-” Animalistic? Wicked? Unleashed something altogether unholy in her? “Something to remember.”

"Party trick?" He laughs, "you think I don't do that when I'm on my own?" 

He tucks his hand under her arm, tugging her gently up level with his face. 

"C'mere. Why don't you just..." 

He glances around for the bottle of oil, but it's gone, long gone, knocked away under the bed or somewhere. He sits forward, abruptly, and reaches between her legs, rubbing his fingers over the wet mess of her pussy until they're slick with her, then spreads his knees wide and presses his fingers against his asshole. 

He closes his eyes, his stomach tenses, his shoulders and neck are pulled taut for a second, as he pushes into himself, and then he opens his eyes wide with a little gasp as he hits the spot. His other hand pulls long, hard strokes along his dick, and he looks back at her, his eyes clouded with arousal, the thrill of doing this in front of her.

"...Why don't you just tell me somethin' dirty."

Her laugh tickles the hair behind his ear as she wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"Darling, if this is what you're like the first time you take someone to bed, I can barely imagine what you get up to alone."

Nipping at his neck, her fingers play with the silver streaking his dark hair, gently easing his head to loll against the thump of her pulse. Mimicking his tone, she does a poor man’s impersonation of his accent when he begged her to “keep talking” earlier.

"Well, what did you want to hear?” 

Thinking, she pulls one of her dark brown hairs free from where it’s caught in his black.

“Hmmm. Oh!”

She lowers her voice, conspiratorially, as if she’s telling him a big secret. 

“Remember the wall we talked about earlier?” 

His eyes meet hers, wide and clear, and he mouths silently -what? 

She smiles. Is that a little flush of alarm on his cheeks? 

He nods, swallowing hard. 

"Yeah. Yeah I remember."

Her voice is barely more than a hoarse croak when as she places slow, deliberate kisses down his cheek and jaw. 

“You and Mags, well, neither of you are exactly quiet. I wondered what you did, to draw those sounds out of her. God, I got so worked up, hearing the two of you, imagining how you moved together.” 

Her hand drifts lower, just higher than where he strokes himself, idling on the indent where his underwear had sat. 

“Do you want to hear how wet I got? How I fucked myself, listening? Pretending I was there, in between you two. We both know Mags is a good time alone, but the two of you.” 

She groans softly, in sync with his own exhale. Both his hands move faster, jerking, slightly out of time as his muscles tense and release methodically. Stahl whines, softly, and Gene laughs in good humour. 

"Oh, baby," his eyes close, and his mouth hangs open, "oh my god that's so fuckin' hot, goddamn. Touch me, baby, help me out here." 

He grabs her hand, and wraps it around the head of his dick, tangling his fingers with hers and sliding up and down his shaft. 

She continues, stroking him lazily, carelessly.

“Not that I knew it was you at the time, of course. Though I caught you leaving, later on, when I was taking Pyg outside.” 

She drops a kiss to his shoulder, and squeezes tighter. 

“Glad I got to see what all the fuss was about.”

"Yeah, ah baby, tell me- tell me what you- ah!- what you heard." 

He laughs, and his cock throbs hard in her hand.

Gene barks a laugh along with him, punctuating their hands moving in tandem along his shaft.

“Mostly both of you moaning, truth be told. Her rousing on you after you came on her- well, my - dress. You, getting on your knees and cleaning it up with your mouth. Shouldn’t have been so surprised that you made me kiss you, just so you could get a taste of your own filth.”

Her thumb traces the blue vein running up the length of him, and he shudders. Hard. Something akin to wicked pride swells in Gene’s chest. If he turned her on back in the bar, beautiful and cocky, it was nothing compared to how he made her cunt ache like this. Sweaty, messy, and utterly wrecked, broken down to nothing but the nerves in his cock and ass, desperate and clawing for release. She tugs mean on his hair, tasting the residual salt of his skin.

“As for Mags and I, we’ve, um, helped each other out a few times. Talking boys, braiding hair, occasional head in the back room of The Rail. You know, gal pal stuff.” 

Gene kisses the tip of his nose. 

“She’s a bit of a two pump chump, but I bet you already knew that. Last time, I managed twice before I even got my mouth on her, and another time once I did.” 

She huffs a giggle through her nose. Lets it tickle his skin as she holds his face close. 

“She was so mad she wasn’t able to make me cum, poor girl. Didn’t speak to me for a week afterwards. Tell me. How many times did you get her off, sweetheart?

"I - hah, I dunno, I wasn't c- ah! Oh fuck!" 

He arches his back, lifting his hips off the bed for a moment, stretching his torso and thrusting into her hand, and he grabs his balls tight, his breath caught in his throat. She quickens her pace, just a fraction, and he screws his eyes shut and yells, long groaning syllables that echo off the walls as he paints his stomach, shuddering through his orgasm, still bucking into her hand, thin, white streaks of cum seeping down between her fingers. 

He drops back onto the bed, sweating, shivering, and she lifts her hand, but he grabs it, holding her there. 

"Don't stop, don't sto- oh my god, don't stop." 

She bites at her lip, and keeps working her fist around him, until he coughs and yelps, his legs jerking into the air, and he pushes her hand away. He leans his head back against the headboard, chest heaving, sweat running in thin rivulets down his chest, pooling in the dip of his stomach. His eyes are closed, and then his mouth is open, absolute bliss painted on his face.

Gene hums, content, feeling his heartbeat peak and then slow against hers, steadying in the wake of his comedown. 

"God, that was really something." 

In the dull light, she examines the mess he's made on her hand, before daintily sucking at her fingers. Feeling Stahl's eyes on her, she offers it to him silently, letting his cum smear across his lips as his mouth closes around her index finger. His pupils are blown-out black. He closes his eyes again, and Gene strokes his stomach gently. 

"I could watch you come a dozen more times and not get bored." 

A strangled laugh bursts through Stahl, twitching the corners of his mouth. 

"No chance of that, sweetheart. I’m done for the week."

Sighing softly, Gene places one last gentle kiss to the edge of his lips, before hopping out of the bed. Somewhere in the background, Stahl hears the trickle of a tap running, then small feet pacing around the apartment as she mutters to herself. He stretches his long limbs out, eyes still closed.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time he opens them again, Gene's half-dressed, tucking her shirt back into her jean's waistband.

"Woah, woah, c'mere."

He hops upright, beckons her to the bed again. 

"Hold your horses, woman. Lemme get a quick, uh, rinse off, and then I want  _ you _ ," he grabs her waistband, and tugs her close, "outta these, and laying down for one last cigarette and some post coital wit, before you slink off into the night." 

He grins, wiping his forehead with the crook of his elbow. 

"Don't get me wrong, you don't have to stay the night or anything, if you're not into that, but I  _ demand _ that cigarette. And/ _ or _ maybe another hit of jet, if you're that way inclined."

She hesitates, blush colouring her neck. Her fingers hover over the top button of her pants. Much to her annoyance, her voice is small once she finds it. 

"You, um, you mean it?" 

_ Fuck, why did she sound like some stupid schoolgirl? _ Shrugging, she adds, "I was trying to save yourself the awkward morning after."

Not letting him answer, she heads back into the living room, crawling on hands and knees to scoop out her dented cigarette case from its hiding place under the couch. It rattles hollowly in her hand, empty except for a few splintered matches and the remnants of tobacco.

"I'm all out, Stahl." She calls from the other room, grateful that the echo dulled the feeble tremor in her thrown voice. "You got anymore lying around?"

As she heads for the sofa, he follows her, rounding the corridor into the bathroom. He calls through at her question. 

"Yeah, a bunch, in the cupboard in the kitchen, or Bobby might have some tobacco and skins in there if you prefer to roll your own. Take your pick, it's all communal. If you're hungry too, just, y'know, help yourself. But don't get too excited, I ain't gonna cook it for ya." 

He runs the water and steps into the shower, lathering the scentless, slightly too soft soap and cleaning up quickly. He wanders back through into the bedroom, naked, and grabs a towel from where it's stretched atop a shelf to dry. He rubs down, mostly dry now, and lays back on the bed, the post orgasmic chill settling on his skin, and he throws the thin blanket over half of him, one leg still hanging loosely over the edge of the bed.

  
It takes some searching, but Gene finds the cigarettes just in time to hear the water turn off.  _ These must be Stahl’s,  _ she grumbles to herself, hoisting herself up onto the kitchen counter to reach blindly for the cigarettes on the top shelf of the cupboard.  _ Mac wouldn’t be able to throw them up here, he’s barely taller than I am. _

Anxious fingers fumble with the matches, splitting one before managing to light the other as she makes her way back to his room. Stahl is stretched out, limbs nearly off the bed, grinning up at her as she takes a lungful of smoke before handing the cigarette to him. She can still smell sex, but it’s fainter now, watered down by the droplets of moisture caught on Stahl’s neck. It highlights the thin layer of grime and residue clinging beneath her clothes, causing Gene to wrinkle her nose slightly.

“You look real cosy. I might take a quick shower too.” 

Turning her back to him, she strips off, crossing her arms to hide her chest as she makes her way to the bathroom. 

The water is barely lukewarm, but the shower feels heavenly, putting slight pressure on the sore muscles as she scrubs at herself. Being dirty didn’t bother her, not in the way it once set her off, but rinsing off made her feel slightly more human, despite the slight throb of a hangover hinting between her eyebrows. She quickly dries herself off, squinting then barking a laugh at the letters above the toilet.

_RJ put the seat down you fuckin animal._   
She was definitely going to rag on him about that later.

She’s still snickering when she reenters Stahl’s room, wrapping the towel around herself like a toga to hide her left shoulder. Flopping ungracefully onto her stomach, she reaches for the last of the cigarette clenched between his teeth.

“Nice sign.”

"In the bathroom?” he raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head. “Yeah, be nicer if I didn't need it. Y'know how many time- y'know, maybe that's not the conversation you want right now." 

She cackles back at him. 

"No, perhaps not. He crashed in my room once night when I was living at the Rex. Had to tip Clair double the room price for the cleanup job." 

He laughs softly, and runs his hand down her back, resting it on her ass for a second with a comforting squeeze. He rolls onto his side, and wraps one long arm around her shoulders, sweeps her damp hair aside. 

"You feel okay?" His eyes flick down her face, and up again, and with his hand in her hair, it's almost tender, "You one for curling up together, or you like your space?"

The radio beside the bed throws dull amber light across them both, illuminating Stahl's pupils with a golden ring against the blue of his iris. Gene traces the faint lines at the corner of his eyes mapping out the curves and ridges of his jaw and shoulder. Her hand comes to rest on the anchor tattooed on his arm. Closing her eyes, she leans Stahl's warmth, shuddering slightly as his long fingers work through the tangles. 

"Mmm, this is good." She shakes her head, slightly. "Are you sure you want me here?" 

Leaning forward, she rests her chin up on the pillow.    
"I, uh-" Her eyes carve out the crevices and cracks of his dry lips as she clears her throat. "I don't want to step on anyone's toes. Namely one cranky merc." 

She pulls a face at him. 

"I mean, he's pretty scrawny, so I could probably take him. But he's also a hell of a good shot."

"I'd pay good caps to watch that." He chuckles. "Nah, you're good. He's not due home til tomorrow or later, but I've walked in on worse things, trust me." 

She laughs back at him, more movement than sound. 

"You might get your wish someday." 

He pulls her in closer. The familiar instinct to flee, to run, whenever anyone gets too close - it’s there, but blunter than usual. Easier to swallow down. As an act of her own defiance, she presses close to him, making sure only her smooth side touched his skin. 

He settles against her, his fingers trailing up and down the line of her pulse, and he sighs, quietly, satisfied and comfortable. His eyes drift shut and his breathing slows. She watches him, a wry smile crinkling her eyes -  _ of course he falls asleep, of course, he's practically drawing a pension by wasteland standards _ \- when his mouth moves, he pulls her in closer, his eyes still closed, and mumbles, quietly. 

"Sorry about the dress."

“It’s ‘kay, you’ve made it up to me.” 

She wants to kiss him, again. Desperately, tenderly, but her cowardice stops her before she can. 

“Like I said, no one needs to see me in a cocktail dress anymore.”

"I dunno, I'd probably pay good caps to see that, too." He smiles, his eyes still closed. 

"And honey," his voice is still lazy, slightly muffled with exhaustion and the angle of his neck, "I been on my knees for John Hancock; you can stop worrying about a little burn. Or whatever it is. You're the best lay I had in months, I think you can stop worryin' about scarin' me off."

Pressing her forehead against his shoulder, she shakes her head in faux disbelief. 

“You, darling, are an absolute cad. But I’ll take the compliment.” 

Pulling the blankets tighter around them, she gently hooks her ankle around a skinny leg. Her voice cracks a little, worn from use, as she whispers. 

“Thanks for making me cum. Now, did you want some, what did you call it, post-coital wit? Or should I let you sleep, honey?"

"Nah, nah, I know this game. If I fall asleep, you're gone, outta the door without even a kiss goodbye." He laughs. 

"Though it seems I got real lucky tonight, on that count. Anyone ever tell you how good you taste?" 

He rolls, and presses his mouth to her cheek, catching just the corner of her lips. He looks at her for a moment, then moves his mouth along her cheekbone, down the corner of her jaw, catches her earlobe between his teeth, then whispers. 

" _ Everywhere _ ."

His words raise goosebumps, causing Gene to shiver slightly. Contentment rumbles deep in her chest as she moves against him, angling her neck for his teeth to barely graze. 

“Mmm, not  _ nearly _ enough. I’d say something similar, but you already know.” 

She pats his ass softly, before resting her hand at the small of his back. 

“No need to make you any cockier.” 

Gene presses her mouth to the corner of his, just enough that the edges of their lips interlock. The leg wrapped around his pulls tighter as she sighs against him. 

“You keep this up and we’re gonna have real trouble.”

He winds his fingers through hers, sighing. 

"I'm an old hand, honey, I'm good at gettin' outta trouble. Once I've gotten myself in it." 

His nose nudges hers, and he speaks with his lips painfully close to her mouth. 

"But I think maybe we could use a little trouble, just a taste, see how it sits on your tongue..." 

He kisses her, softly, barely a brush of his lips. His hands trap hers, gently enough, pulling them up above her and pinning them to the headboard as he rolls himself quickly, to arch over her, her leg still twisted around the back of his knee. 

"You're really something, y'know." He grins, looking over her. "I don't think I knew what I was getting into. But I sure would like to do it again, if that suits you sometime."

  
Her heart hammers, staggered and increasing, as little throbs of fear-tinged arousal radiate from where he holds her hands captive.  _ Well, that’s new. _ The little voice in her head pipes up.  _ Didn’t know that did anything for me. _

“As, uh, compelling an argument as you make,” she sighs, tracking each long line of his body above her, “ask me again in the morning. When we’re sober.” 

Stahl frowns a little at her answer, and she rubs reassuring circles with her thumbs on the backs of his hands. She wraps her other leg around him, hooking her ankles together. Her eyes flick shyly to his mouth. 

“Kiss me again?”

Stahl presses closer, his eyes regaining that mischievous sparkle. He murmurs quietly. 

"Say that again.  _ Ask me _ again." 

" _ Stahl... _ " 

She rolls her head away, coy or embarrassed or tired of his game, and he chases her, nudging her back to face him. He whispers, barely louder than a breath against her open mouth. 

"Ask me again. I just wanna hear you say it." 

She closes her eyes, and breathes deep, her chest rising against his. 

"Kiss me again." 

He rests his lips against hers, as soft and dry with dehydration as his own, and his mouth opens gently, just a hint of pressure, his tongue touching her teeth, pushing behind them and rolling, softly, against her tongue as it came to meet his. And they sink into one another, mouths warm and wet, his hands weighing heavy on her wrists, his fingers twined through hers. 

He pulls back, and she follows, nipping at his tongue as he draws it back, and he smiles, meeting her again, tongue sweeping the tender cavern of her mouth, until they're short of breath and she turns her head; his teeth latch onto her bottom lip, dragging lightly as he lifts his mouth away. He looks at her, and watches her breathe, the warm colour in her cheeks, the gentle bob of her throat as she swallows, her chest rising and falling slowly. He smiles, and it's tinged with knowing admiration, resigned to what he's about to say. 

"The door's unlocked. I know you're gonna go, but just... Don't leave me hanging forever, huh? And don't... get me barred, if you don't wanna see me again. I won't make a big deal." 

He laughs, and rolls onto his back, sighing through his teeth so it's almost a whistle, still smiling.

An unpleasant chill runs through her spine, and she gathers the blanket up to her neck, legs crawling up as she makes herself as small as possible. Stahl's lying on his back, no longer touching her. She props up on an elbow to match his eye-line. 

“What are you doing?" The voice is small, timid. She swallows down, before trying again. "I mean... I don't know what you want from me." 

Her left hand inches towards his face, but catches in mid-air, drawing into a fist. There's a bitterness coating her tongue, and it taints her words. 

"Just, don't say things you might not mean tomorrow. When you stop thinking with your dick, or when Mac's home, or when someone new offers you a drink and to spread their legs for you."

"Wow." He says shortly. "Did it get a little cold in here, all of a sudden?"

He sighs, and looks at her sideways.

She laughs, slightly dejected, at him, brushing his hair back from his eyebrows. 

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It doesn't serve either of us to pretend we don't know how these things usually go. All I'm saying is please don't make it more than what it is. If it's not actually what you want."

He shifts, sitting up and leaning on his elbow. 

"I'm not, I'm just... Saying it'd be fun to do that again. I'm not asking you to move in, honey, just, y'know. I had fun, you had fun - or I thought you did-" 

He sighs.   
“I just  _ liked _ it, and I'm a sucker for things that feel good. I like you; you got a smart mouth, you butt heads  _ fearlessly _ , you're hot as hell. You’re not in any danger of making me an honest man, if that's what you're scared of. " 

He takes a deep breath, tongue curled behind his teeth. 

"Look. All I'm saying is that was a lot of fun, you're a lot of fun. And I like that kinda fun."

Stahl's gaze is piercing; her hands form a shield to hide her from the soft, penetrating stare. Fully aware of how childish she's acting, she lets out a small, frustrated scream through clenched teeth, rubbing at her face until colours flash behind her eyelids. 

"What're you doing to me, Stahl? You got me to kiss you, to take my shirt off,  _ ugh. _ " 

Staring at the bedroom wall, she gropes blindly for him in the bed. Shy fingers interlock with his. The other hand's skin threatens to split between her teeth. 

"Jus- forget what I said, okay? My tongue's clumsy and doesn't know what it's doing. I like you too. A lot. And I'm not looking for another husband, or whatever, either." 

She swallows, her thumb feeling the cartography of his knuckles. 

"It's just - there's not a lot to look forward to in this world, right? And I'm impatient. Just didn't want to get my hopes up if you were only sweet on me for a night."

"If I was just sweet on you for the night, I woulda let you put your clothes back on when you tried to run out on me earlier. You can still go, whenever, if it... doesn't feel right. Doesn't have to be a big deal.”    
He shrugs.   
“But if you wanna stay, I'll make breakfast, there's coffee, I'll get you a robe outta the bathroom so you don't have to wear that all day. Or..." he brings her hand to his mouth, kisses her knuckles, "you could lose it altogether and I could eat  _ you _ for breakfast." 

He laughs at his own shitty joke, and scoots closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"I'll leave it up to you. The door is unlocked. But I'd be pretty happy if you stuck around a while."

“Well, how could I resist an invitation like that?” 

Her throat feels thick and sore with shame, scratching at her vocal cords, but the tension dissipates and sizzles out as quickly as it came. Stahl’s holding her closer now, her head in line with his chest. She can feel the throb of his heart; its steady beat slowing as liquor-tipped exhaustion settles in their bones. 

“Seem to remember you said you weren’t gonna cook for me?” She jokes.   
He laughs, dryly.   
"Yeah, well, I said that before you put your fingers in my ass. So maybe that was more flexible than I implied." 

Her warm breath tickles his sternum, and she goes on.    
"I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll have to head home before work at some point; if you’re awake before that, breakfast would be lovely. In  _ any _ of the ways you meant it, pervert.” 

The fingers locked with his untangle, and she wraps a small arm up and around him, until her hand finds his shoulder blade. Nudging the swallow on his chest with her chin, she angles her head until her forehead rests on the jut of his jaw. 

“If not, I’ll let you keep sleeping. I’m only working a short one tomorrow. You know how to find me.”

"Yeah, I'll... I'll wake up." He laughs, and rests his mouth against her hair as she curls close. 

"But here's the real bombshell; it's unverified, but I been told that I snore like a motherfucker. So you just gotta kick me, and I mean it, kick me if I'm driving you up the wall."

A hybrid yawn-cackle flows through her nose, she closes her eyes. 

"You're so romantic. I'm starting to think you meant what you said earlier. About us being in love." 

She feels his laugh more than hears it; sleep has already pulled her half away, a meditative tug. Stahl's chest rises and falls in sync with her own. Closing her eyes, she places one final, open mouthed kiss to his ribcage. 

"Don't stress about the snoring. If you get too loud I'll just crush your balls again."

He snorts, and mumbles something that might have been  _ yes please _ , and scratches them absently, his eyes closed and similarly snared by the gentle pull of sleep, his last thoughts somewhere between a flickering memory of pain in his groin and a cold wash of realisation that maybe that's something he'd like. 

And then, one more thing, as he inhales slowly through his nose beside her. 

_ God, her hair smells good, doesn't it… _


End file.
